A Litany at Dusk
by duskwatcher2153
Summary: Edward's been a solitary vampire, hunting on the edges of society. He rejoins his family in Forks, ready to abstain and runs across a young woman praying. A choice must be made between one's heart, one's desires and one's soul. Darkward ExB AU
1. Chapter 1 The Prodigal Son Returns

**A/N This is a story about a different kind of Edward. It's going to seem OOC in bits, but I hope you can still see the original character in there. His past divurged from what you read in the Saga. Edward's 'rebellious period' has lasted most of his life, and when he returns to Forks to re-join his family, he is, dark and desperate. This is rated M for a reason, specifically lemons and adult subject matter. Not for the under-age crowd, please.**

**A special thanks to PTB, full of wonderful betas and the ever-marvelous hellacullen.**

**Edward**

_Christopher Sloane_

_Chester Smith_

_Duvall Smith_

_Levoyne Sorkin_

_Frank Sterrit_

_Carl Stubbs_

_Frederick Surdyka_

_Alan Swett_

_Roger Swiderski_

_Alfred Sylvia_

_Laurence Symmons_

It was a litany of names, a list I knew by heart. I ran through it each day at twilight, sometimes alphabetically, sometimes chronologically, sometimes by another seemingly random factor. It stopped the list from becoming a slur of meaningless sounds.

The single headlamp of the motorcycle illuminated the dark road, and I kept the recitation going in time with the passing of the broken white lines of the highway. The incessant roar from the bike was a constant ringing in my ears. The dark foliage on either side of the highway was deepened from the onslaught of night. This road ran through some sparsely settled areas, and I hadn't seen any cars for miles.

_Peter Tesscini_

_David Troutman_

_Martha Troutman_

_Saul Turetzky_

_Sanford_ _Tyler_

_Hiko Umezawa_

_Victor Uroz_

So many names. So many lives. The wind whipped my hair, and I was grateful for the sunglasses that kept the gnats from my eyes as they populated the dusk. The thrumming of the powerful motorcycle between my legs pounded an insistent counter rhythm to the listing. It was a Harley Davidson Night Rod, and I had been on it for days.

I'd found it was easiest to go through the list if I was traveling as I was now. Somehow, dropping the names as the miles passed by made it easier to bear. Like I was leaving them behind like stepping stones back to my beginning, back to the person I had once been.

I was nearing the end of the litany as I pulled into the well-hidden, unpaved turn-off. It was just as Emmett had described it. I was going home, to a house I'd never seen before. I was tortured by the fact that I didn't know if this would be a home for me, or if it was just my family's home.

Creeping down the long driveway, I saw the golden welcoming light shining out of the windows. It was another spectacular house, contemporary and modern, lots of glass walls, and set in a clearing overlooked by six huge pines. The shadows beneath the trees were darkening quickly as dusk slid into evening, the trees as sinister as the house was beckoning.

The bike rumbled to a stop. I turned it off and set the kickstand. Bowing my head and clenching my gloved fist against my leather-clad leg, I opened my mind. I caught the tenor of six different voices; they were all home. Each voice had its own distinct flavor and the mix of them together was like hearing a favorite song from years past. I surveyed their thoughts and heard my name in all of them. However, only Esme and Carlisle were coming to greet me. That must have been Alice's doing and I felt a gush of gratitude toward her. The last thing I wanted was the pretense of a big, happy homecoming.

Pulling off the sunglasses, I placed them in the travel bag strapped to the back of the bike. I peeled off the leather gloves finger by finger and shook them out. I'd been riding for 48 hours straight. I wasn't tired—I never had the luxury of being tired, but I was exhausted. Exhausted with my life and where it had led me. Now it led me here. The black sheep had come back to the fold. The prodigal son had returned.

Esme and Carlisle were at the door as I trudged up the steps. Esme immediately pulled me into her arms, her pale loveliness radiating comfort and welcome. "So glad you're here," she whispered. I wrapped my arms around her and bent my head to feel her hair on my face. She was cool and unyielding under my hands, so unlike my victims. I closed my eyes as I remembered that the last time I had been touched in affection was over fourteen years ago. Esme put into words what I had been thinking. "It's been too long."

It had been too long since I had had any kind of connection to anyone. I had drifted back and forth across the North America so many times that I'd lost count. Always traveling but never headed anywhere, I'd been the quintessential nomad. I had roamed as freely and as purposelessly as a leaf pushed downstream as it rides the river's current. I fed when the thirst became too much, and I was careful in selecting my victims. That was, until last month, and now I questioned my existence and purpose with a vengeance.

Esme drew back and placed a hand on my face, no doubt noticing the blackness of my eyes and the shadows under them. "You haven't been feeding." It wasn't a question.

I placed my hand on hers and smiled at her maternal concern. Years ago, I would have shaken off any of her concerns as an unneeded intrusion into my life, but now I took it for the sign of affection that it was.

"No." I would not show up on Carlisle's doorstep with crimson eyes. I respected him too much to flaunt my choices in his face.

Looking over Esme's shoulder, I met Carlisle's golden eyes. He was my maker and my father in all the ways that counted. Esme stepped back as Carlisle stepped forward. I felt like I was on the brink of some deep hole, and when he gathered me in his arms, it was as if he had pulled me away from the edge of the cliff. I started to tremble with the strength of the unexpressed emotion in me, despair, sadness, shame, relief at his welcome, love for his clear, calming mind, and an overwhelming sense of loss. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder, brought nearly to tears with the sense of haven I felt in his arms. I owed this man my life and so much more, and I had repaid him deplorably. Yet each time I asked something of him, he gave whatever I needed, freely and with both hands open. I didn't deserve Carlisle in my life, and I was miserably aware of the fact. "May I stay here for a while?" I whispered, not raising my head.

His arms tightened around me, and I felt his hand stroke my head. "Of course, we're your family."

Esme's hand touched my back. "You belong with us."

I swallowed hard, trying to control my feelings. I didn't know if that was true or not. A broken sound escaped me, before I regained control. The only thing I knew for sure was that I could no longer live my life the way I had been for the greater part of seventy years.

"You don't know what it means to hear you say that." I choked out. I was sick of death and violence. Before I had always justified my existence with rationales about only selecting the evildoers, I was ready to admit that I was not good at playing God; ready to admit that the world does not exist in black and white. I was ready to surrender.

"Oh, my son," Carlisle whispered, his arms holding me tightly. His thoughts were running back to when he had made me and our first years together, the times we had spent traveling and living together, learning each others' ways. I had come back and lived as he did several times within the past seventy years, but each time, after months or years had passed, I would leave again to deal with the injustices of the world, as if they were mine to solve. I no longer held onto that pretense.

"Thank you," I said softly, still holding Carlisle. My chest felt like it was expanding with gratitude and relief. I was at a crossroads in my life, and I craved Carlisle's patient wisdom to help me make some sense of the mess I had made of my reality. If he had turned me down, I would have nowhere to go, and that thought terrified me.

Carlisle released me, and I reluctantly stepped away from his arms. Esme took me by the hand and smiling, led me into the house. "We have a room for you. No matter where we've lived, there's always been a room for you."

I hesitated, but Carlisle placed a hand on my shoulder. His thoughts were clear and compassionate, as always. _Go. We'll talk later._

"Thank you," I whispered again, letting Esme lead me.

Esme turned to me as we started up the steps of a sleek chrome and wood staircase. "Your brothers and sisters wanted to greet you, but Alice saw that you needed some time."

I nodded as we turned down a hall. "Please tell them thank you, but …" I couldn't even finish my sentence. I was in no shape to try to cope with their lightness and acceptance. I loved them; I just felt unworthy of their love and to see it in their eyes would only make me feel more alienated. I desperately needed a slice of silence and peace.

The room at the end of the hall was wide and had huge glass windows that looked out over a meadow with a stream that was rapidly fading into blackness as night fell. The furnishings were minimal: a black leather sofa, a desk, a stereo with a small collection of CDs, and a flatscreen. "I hope you like it." Her eyes were shadowed with concern; she saw something broken in me that she had never seen before, and it was worrying her.

"It's more than I could have wished." I would have been content with a hole in the basement.

"There is a piano downstairs. Perhaps you'll come play...?" She smiled hopefully. Esme always felt most complete with all her family gathered around her. She was the heart of the Cullen family and her joy was in seeing us together.

"Esme, I don't know if I can. Perhaps later," I said, feeling my throat close. I hated to disappoint her, but right now I couldn't face any more of my family. I swayed with the sudden depth of my exhaustion. I was just weary down to my bones with it all, and the thought of being alone in this still, quiet room was calling to me irresistibly.

"Of course," she said, kissing my cheek. "Take whatever time you need." Pausing at the door, she looked me in the eyes, trying to convey her sincerity. "Welcome home, Edward. Really, welcome home." The door clicked softly behind her as she left me.

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked around the room. There was a closet and a bathroom off the right wall. Stepping up to the french doors that overlooked a dark meadow below, I pushed them open to smell the clean, damp aroma of the surrounding forests. A new moon was rising over the eastern horizon. Below me on the ground, Rosalie had left the house, pounding across the meadow in ferocious strides like an Amazon. Emmett came trotting behind her and whispered in her ear while his hand slid along her ass. "Perhaps Edward's not the only one who wants to be alone. Maybe we could be alone together," he whispered suggestively. She gave a playful shove at his chest and took off running.

He looked back at the house and his eyes found me unerringly. "Brother," he whispered, knowing I would hear him. With a fist, he pounded his chest where his heart would be and then pointed at me in a gesture of filial affection. I smiled and made the same gesture.

"Emmett," Rosalie called, some yards ahead, her hands on her hips.

He grinned and said, "Catch ya later." He caught up with Rosalie and grabbed her, spinning her around once before setting her on her feet. Together they sped off into the distance, leaping the river in a single bound and disappearing into the forests beyond. I heard their laughter as it trailed behind them.

Their closeness and easy familiarity tugged at me. I had felt like an outsider for so long and so unrelentingly. I didn't know if I could ever be a part of the heart of the Cullen family. I had tried before and failed on more than one occasion. It was me; it was always me. But the thought that was making my soul cringe in anguish was whether I deserved to be a part of this family. The loneliness, despair and shame that I had been fighting for years swallowed me up. I lay back on the sofa and threw my arm across my eyes. I closed my mind and stopped breathing, stopped listening, stopped thinking.

***

I lay like that for three days, coming to awareness only at twilight. I would take the time then to compose myself and murmur my litany of names, before falling back into the black hole that had claimed me. I was minimally roused on several occasions when Esme peeked into my room, but I kept still, and she would soon tiptoe out. Her concern for me was warming, but I wasn't ready. I was sick— heartsick to the core, and I didn't know if there was a cure for what ailed me.

I had spent the majority of my existence feeding on the worst dregs of humanity, the unrepentant rapists, murderers, drug-pushers and child exploiters. With each life I took, I knew some other human out there was safer for my actions. I could hear the thoughts of the evil and felt like I was cleansing the world. I thought I was bringing justice; now I recognized I had only been bringing vengeance and that there was a world of difference.

It was if a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I could see myself as the selfish, self-deluding monster that I was.

I heard Alice's thoughts pointed at me even before she climbed the stairs. She was on a mission from Esme and determination pervaded her thoughts. It was clever of Esme to send the one person who could see what words would persuade me.

_Edward, Edward_. The door to my room opened. _Come out, come out wherever you are._

I sighed. Her thoughts said she wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Reluctantly, I sat up.

She was leaning in the doorway, dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. "About time you joined the world."

I rubbed my eyes and jaw. "Hello."

She walked across the room to come sit beside me on the sofa. "I've been recruited to take you hunting. Esme's orders."

She saw me jerk at the word hunting. "In the forest," she amended softly.

I nodded. The thirst was becoming fierce, and it would only be harder to ignore if I didn't take some kind of remedial action.

Alice put her arm around my shoulders and leaned her head into mine. "I'm glad you're home." I heard her thought. _I've missed you most of all, Tin Man._ She was paraphrasing the Wizard of Oz.

"I feel like a Tin Man, all hard on the outside and hollow on the inside."

She smiled sympathetically, her hand sliding down my back. "Someday you will be whole and happy."

Shaking my head, I tapped my chest. "No heart."

She looked intently into my eyes and placed her hand on my chest. "It's there," she whispered. "You just haven't been using it. But you will, Edward, you will."

I looked askance at her. "Is that something you've seen?"

She moved back and shook her head. "It's something I know." She stood up and held out her hand. "Come on."

Downstairs, Jasper was waiting for us. "Mind if I tag along?"

He was guarding his thoughts, but I got the distinct impression that he wanted to be there for Alice if I should become a problem.

"Sure, the more the merrier." I said sarcastically. _Great, it's wonderful to be trusted_. Jasper caught the edge to my mood but said nothing as the three of us headed out doors.

"Which way?" I asked, surveying the forests surrounding us.

"East," Alice decided. "Let's head out toward the reservoir."

Jasper looked sideways at me, obviously appraising me. "I'm thinking you've slowed a bit since we last ran together."

I smirked at him. "You wish."

"Uh, oh." A lazy smile crossed his face. "That sounds like a challenge."

"A challenge? Are you suggesting a wager?"

"Well, I'd love a few days to see what that bike can do."

"And if I win?"

"_If_ you should win," he said, emphasizing the if, "free rein in my CD collection."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Has your taste in music improved?"

"You may never find out."

"Then try to keep up," I said, exploding into a full run.

I heard Alice's petulant thoughts behind me as I raced forward. _I'm still going to want a ride on that motorcycle. _

I threw my head back and laughed. She'd already seen that I would win. However, Jasper wasn't going to hand me a win so easily. He was pacing me stride for stride as we sped through the forest. The trees passed by, blurring with my speed.

A half hour later, I stopped at the banks of the Hoh River. Soon, I heard Jasper come crashing through the brush. He stopped some ways away from me and slowly walked up to me, grinning.

"Why are you smiling?" It was pretty clear he'd lost.

"I hope you like Keith Urban," he drawled.

"Great." I rolled my eyes.

Alice passed us, running at full speed as she leapt the river in a graceful arc. "Follow me!" she cried, not slowing down.

Jasper and I took off after her. It was a joy to watch her run. Her petite feet barely seemed to touch the ground. She skimmed the forest floor with the grace of a running deer. We flew through the forest, and I felt my heart lighten. I had forgotten how much I had missed these people, and the loneliness I felt began to thaw.

A bit later, we were at the headwaters of the Grey Wolf River. Jasper lifted his head and sniffed the wind. "Bear or moose?" he asked.

Jasper and I looked at each other and then both said, "Bear" together. Jasper raised his fist in the air for a quick round of Rock, Paper, Scissors to settle the dispute, a habit he'd picked up from Emmett.

Alice plucked his shirt. "You're forgetting," she said, tapping her finger to her temple. "He'll know. Come on, I was in the mood for an herbivore, anyway."

It had been a long time since I had hunted bear. I'd forgotten the trick of getting to the jugular vein without getting a mouthful of fur. I pulled the last of the thick, smoky blood from the bear and rolled to my back, propping my head against the rapidly cooling body, pulling a few strands of fur from my mouth. It wasn't the same as feeding on humans. It would never be the same. It dulled the burning, but it would never make it go away. Still, this bear had given its life for my sustenance. I rolled so I could stroke the bear's shoulder. "Thank you," I whispered as I always did to my victims, any of the creatures who died at my hands so I might live.

Would it be enough? Would I finally be ready and willing to resist the lure of human blood indefinitely and live as my family did? I didn't have an answer for that, and it scared me.

Some scent in the air was tickling my nose. I rose to my feet as a gust of wind pushed the aroma toward me.

Humans. Two of them. Hiking, perhaps a mile upwind. I closed my eyes to identify the scent. They were Asians.

I opened my eyes, and Jasper and Alice stood in front of me, wary expressions on their faces.

"What?" I asked before I caught the directions of their thoughts. They'd both come running as soon as they realized there were humans in the area and were anxious about my ability to control myself.

I shook my head, disappointed that they had so little faith in me. The connection I had been feeling with them suddenly snapped shut. I pushed past them toward the direction of home. I didn't want them to see the expression on my face that said how little faith I had in myself.

The sun was setting as we approached the western edge of the park. I stopped at the edge of the meadow, lit up in a golden light as the edges of the trees' shadows inched their way across it. "I think I'll stop here for a while before returning to the house."

Jasper and Alice turned to me, concern on their face. _Are you sure?_

I almost laughed; this was getting ludicrous. "Please, I'll be fine. I don't have to kill every human I come across."

Jasper raised his hand. "Hey, man, I didn't mean--"

"Come on." Alice pulled Jasper's hand. "He'll be fine."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." I watched them skim across the meadow.

_Carlisle will be along soon_, Alice informed me as they disappeared into the trees.

I walked to the center of the meadow and sat down. Sitting in the classic meditative pose of legs crossed and upturned hands resting on my knees, I took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind.

I couldn't pray, but I could remember. I murmured their names with my eyes closed, seeing each face before me.

_Patrick O'Malley_

_Chester Wainwright_

_Gordon Hatfield_

_Michael Donovan_

_Peter Schoonover_

_James Keller_

_Frank DeMaso_

_Roderic Bergen_

_Susan Morgan_

_Yolanda Jimenez_

_Carlos Corrida_

I felt Carlisle's presence somewhere near the middle of the list. He watched me passively from underneath the surrounding trees as I recited my way to the end. Once I had finished and bowed my head, he walked over to me and sat down, echoing my position. _The names—those you've killed?_

"It's the only way I have to keep some part of them alive. I killed them. Shouldn't I bear that responsibility?"

_The church believes that penance without a change in behavior is empty._

"That's why I'm here," I whispered. "I don't want to be the avenging angel anymore. I'm not the person for that job."

_Angels are lonely creatures._

I laughed hollowly. "Tell me about it."

_You always bore that burden willingly._

"I thought that I was doing it for the greater good_."_

_So, what has changed?_

"I have." I balled my fists over my eyes. The shame threatened to overwhelm me. "I realized my own motives were less than pure."

"How so?"

"I've killed in anger," I hissed. A feeling reminiscent of nausea washed over me. I had had so much pride in my so-called objectivity. It would be laughable if it wasn't so tragic. I had pictured myself a bringer of justice and now I knew I was no better than the killers I hunted. That it had stopped being about justice and started being about my personal sense of outrage.

"Tell me what happened."

I had gone over this again and again in my mind.

"It was Detroit, last month. I heard three of them. They were raping and stabbing a young girl. Their minds were pitiless, evil, filled with lust and murder. I broke in the room through the window and snapped two of their necks immediately. I brought the third one to my lips to drink and..." I bolted from where I sat and paced a few steps forward, unable to sit still with the self-loathing running through me. I stood facing the last of the dying rays of the sun. The wisps of clouds above our heads were tinted rose and mauve, the colors of endings.

He waited.

"He was just a boy," I whispered. "Not even twelve years old. They all were."

My hands were shaking with the strength of the emotions coursing through me. I turned to face Carlisle, who sat unmoving, his hands around his knees. His dark golden eyes were watching me.

"He looked up at me with a child's face and I stopped. His eyes were wide with fear, and I let him slip from my hands. He edged away from me and picked up his knife. The girl moaned as he walked by her. So casually, like he was picking up a piece of trash, he bent down and slit her throat." I turned away again. I couldn't bear to see Carlisle's judgment of me on his face. "He didn't make it to the door."

_He was a killer._

"He was a child, Carlisle, a child!" I roared, as I turned to face him. "I killed him and drank his blood because I was angry at him! He offended my personal sense of rightness, and I killed him for it."

_How is this different from the others? _

"I did it in anger. I have been living with this picture of myself as some great impartial judge, protecting the masses. Who is going to protect the masses from me?"

Carlisle's mind was torn. He abhorred violence in any form, and yet he loved me. _How many lives have been saved because of your actions? How many mothers and fathers, sons and daughters are alive now because you killed their would-be murderer? Shall we ask Alice?_

I returned to my seat by Carlisle, dropping my head to rest on my arms, which I had wrapped around my knees. "I am more than a murderer. What I realized as I let his body drop from my hands was that I am the worst kind of thief.

"I'd stolen any chance of redemption from him. That's what I've been doing. I haven't been saving victims; I have been punishing the perps. I catch them at their worst and kill them, taking away any chance they have at rescuing themselves."

_Rescue?_

"People can change. Sinners can be saved. Redemption is always a possibility, even if the chances are against it." I glanced at Carlisle as he watched the darkness surround us. "I thought that because I knew their thoughts, I knew their hearts and could judge them."

_A fine distinction._

"I can't play judge and jury and executioner anymore."

_No one ever asked you to._

"I know." I had to whisper the next part. It was what scared me most. "Was it always just an excuse to indulge the bloodlust? Have I been that weak?"

There was no answer he could give me. I was being eaten alive by my own guilt and shame. "There are things that even God cannot forgive," I quoted softly.

He rose from his place on the grass, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. "If it's forgiveness you're after, Edward, you must start with your own."

* * *

**A/N Your reviews are so much appreciated, please leave a little something?**


	2. Chapter 2 Dark Angel

**Bella**

I loved the smell of the incense. When the priest walked by swinging his thurible, I always inhaled slowly and let the scent wash over me. It's the way I imagined heaven would smell.

I loved the hushed, reverent silence broken by the priest as he intoned his Latin phrases. Even the asthmatic coughs of the white-hared ladies and the sudden wails from the infants as they fussed in their mother's arms were music. It was the music of humanity and it made me feel profoundly grateful for this place of holiness.

I loved the wide, soaring spaces and the filtered light as it streamed through the stained glass windows. My church, Our Lady of the Waters, had a beautiful rose window above the altar, done in colors of ruby, emerald and sapphire. After I had recited my rosary for hours, I would stare at that window, and it would suck me in until I was a part of it, and all my insides were splayed out in multicolor like that window and God's love passed through me like sunshine through glass.

I loved the smell of the well-worn leather pads of the kneelers and the musty smell of the hymnals and epistles. I loved the smell of the candles lit by the faithful as the smoke carried their prayers to heaven.

But it was the statues of the saints that were my favorites. Their knowing, sorrowful faces as they looked down from their niches in the walls were the faces of the protectors of the world, remote yet caring, unknowable and all-seeing.

It was the Virgin that I prayed to the most, for she knew the sorrows of women. Her gentle face was sad with the weight of what the world held for women. Her Son was too removed, too Almighty, for me to believe he would hear my most personal prayers.

I fingered my rosary made of pearls and rubies. I had saved my tips for weeks before I had enough to order it online. I was alone in my pew, the eighth one back on the left side. The service had been over an hour ago, but I stayed on my knees and prayed. I slumped and sat back on my heels after the fifth time through the rosary.

The church was empty, the liturgists having left for dinner. Confession would not begin for another hour, and the only sound was from a deacon as he replaced the candles at the altar and then departed through the priests' door by the altar. It closed behind him, ringing hollowly through the nave.

Although I could have stayed there all night, it was time for me to leave. Softly, so I would not disturb the holy silence, I gathered my things and headed down the central aisle of the pews, the carpet masking the sound of my small steps.

That's when I saw the angel. He was lying in the pew two rows before the end, murmuring to himself. He was dressed like any young man of our time, in leather pants and jacket. But it was his face that gave away his true nature. He was pale and ethereal, and as his lips moved slightly with his words, I could see how perfectly formed his features were. His eyebrows were knitted slightly above his closed eyes as if he was in deep concentration. His jaw line was strong and well defined, his lips full and sensual. I couldn't make out the words of his litany, but his face was immensely sorrowful. Only angels can be that sad; it was just for them and God to know all of the sins of the world. His dark russet hair was tossed every which way as if he had just flown to earth on a mission of great importance. He was lying on his back in the padded pew, his hands clasped together on his stomach, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

I was overcome by the knowledge that God had allowed me to see one of his holiest creatures; it was a sign of great grace and I whispered my thanks to Him.

The angel's eyes flew open and instantly he was beside me. He moved as angels do, faster than sight, in one moment lying down and in the next, towering over me. If I had any doubts that he was a human man, they were dispelled with the speed in which he moved. His face had turned suddenly fearsome, beautiful and terrible at the same time. "Who are you?" he demanded. Even in anger, his voice was musical and alluring.

"Isabella Swan," I breathed, too surprised to add any honorific. How did one address angels? Had I angered him? I dropped my eyes to the floor, trembling a little as I stood before his judgment.

There was a pause and I waited. Finally, timidly, I raised my eyes, feeling his gaze on my face. His expression had softened, perhaps in response to my obvious trepidation. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"Th-that's alright," I stammered. "I'm surprised to see one of your kind here."

That surprised him. His dark elegant eyebrows rose and he took a step back. "My kind." It wasn't a question. His eyes narrowed as he appraised me.

I hoped I was worthy of his appraisal. I took another step closer to him, following the most intense aroma I had ever smelled. It was baking bread, laundry dried outdoors and early spring mornings all wrapped in one. It was the kind of smell that made you want to bury your nose in it and spend your life inhaling. I spoke the first thing that came to my mind. "Why are you here?" I wondered aloud.

His beautiful lips were pursed in confusion. He met my question with one of his own. "Why can't I hear you?"

I raised my eyes to his face. His eyes were truly angelic. Deep golden pools, almost cat-like in their color, made him look slightly feral yet touched by a light that made him glow from within by God's grace. I was as puzzled as he. "You can't hear me?" I murmured.

I saw the tiny movement of his nostrils as they flared. "You smell human," he said softly as if he expected otherwise. His eyes suddenly grew a dark, flat black as his pupils expanded so that the gold was squeezed out. It made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. "In fact, you smell wonderful." He took a step closer.

The intensity of his presence was overwhelming. If God's plan for me was to leave earth with this angel, I would try not to be afraid. I just wanted to know. Somberly, I asked him, "Have you come to take me?"

Another surprised look crossed his face. His quick intake of breath hissed through his teeth. "Do you want me... to take you?" he asked softly as if afraid of my answer.

"Is that what you're here for?" I asked. I was proud that my voice didn't shake, but inside I was churning. He was so intensely beautiful, so inhumanly radiant. The urge to prove to myself that this was no self-imagined dream was overwhelming. Boldly, I reached out and lightly grasped his fingers as his arm hung loosely at his side. His hand was as cold and as firm as an oak bough frozen in mid-winter, like he had indeed flown from heaven.

He jumped at my touch as if it had shocked him. His expression moved from surprise through amazement to fear. "I'm not here for anything," he disavowed, taking another step back. He was staring at me as if my presence frightened him, as if I were making him lose some kind of control. "Emmett!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the church, like he was a child calling for help.

Instantly, another angel appeared beside him, even brawnier and more muscular than the first. Two angels. I bowed my head to my chest and closed my eyes. Surely, I was blessed beyond measure to witness the finest of God's creatures.

The two of them spoke incredibly fast and unintelligibly to my earthbound ears. Finally, the brawny one laid a hand on my angel and spoke the first words I could understand. "Edward, you need to leave. You would be throwing away everything you're trying to accomplish."

I raised my head at that. My angel's eyes had not moved from me. I had to know. "Is that your name? Edward?"

His eyes were still widely dilated, giving him a ferocious yet fearful look. He nodded and then swallowed hard. "I'm leaving now," he whispered.

"May I pray to you?" I asked. Perhaps this angel was for me; no, that was a vain, egotistical thought and I shook it from my head.

His eyes widened. "Pray _for_ me, Isabella Swan, pray _for _me," he whispered softly and then the two of them vanished.

I could feel the swoon coming. The presence of the sacred did that to me. The pews, the arches and the candles began swirling madly and I fell to the ground as a blackness filled with the Holy Spirit overtook me.

**********

The monsignor was calling my name softly. "Isabella... Isabella."

Still tingling with awe at the vision I'd been allowed to see, I slowly opened my eyes. I was on my back on the carpet between pews, my rosary still clutched in my hand. The monsignor's face hung above me, his wizened and kind face full of concern. "My dear, are you alright?"

As I struggled to rise to a sitting position, I noticed two of the deacons standing over me. One of them moved as if to help me, but the monsignor waved him back.

"Did you see them, Father?" I asked him earnestly.

"See what?" He was kneeling beside me, peering into my face. His vestments pooled around his knees like a black puddle.

"There were angels, Father, angels!" I whispered, expecting to see his delight and to share the wonder.

His response was disappointing. "Angels?" he said skeptically. "Isabella, have you been eating? You remember what we discussed. God does not want you to starve yourself—"

"No, I've been good. Really." I had been good. I'd been making an effort to treat myself gently. "Didn't you see them? Oh, they were beautiful!" I looked at their faces, varying degrees of disbelief written on all of them.

The monsignor smiled condescendingly. "Child, you must have been dreaming." He looked up at two of the deacons who stood above us.

"No, there were angels. I touched one. "

The monsignor frowned. "Don't say such things. It's sacrilegious."

I looked at his stern face and the unsmiling faces of the deacons. "Yes, Monsignor."

Still, I knew. There had been angels. I would remember my angel's beauty forever. _Edward._

******

That night, after work, I sat by the open window of my apartment, thankful for the small breeze that stirred the hot humid air. After spending hours in the frigid air-conditioning of the diner, the heat was warm and welcome. Still, the humidity was uncomfortable; I could feel the damp hair sticking to my neck. Even after three years, I missed the dry searing heat of Phoenix.

The moon had vanished behind the horizon. I loved a moonless night. The dark was warm and comforting, washing away the color, leaving the night naked to interpretation. You could be whatever you wanted on a night like this, and no one could tell you different. The blackness hid all the ugliness, so you could just dwell on the beauty.

I had tried to tell Jessica about my encounter with the divine, but her doubts and cynicism were stinging. As the event grew older and dimmer, my own doubts began creeping in, and I was left wondering what had really happened. But looking out at the deep blackness of the night, I knew with all my heart that what I had seen was rare and unusual, above nature and beyond faith. I remembered the smell of my angel: baking bread, laundry dried outdoors and early spring mornings all wrapped together. I took that and the image of his pale, haunting face with me as I lied down in my bed to sleep.

* * *

A/N I know many people find Bella's faith confrontational. I do urge my readers not to assume that this story is about religion--faith maybe, redemption perhaps, but not religion. Please keep reading, this story is probably headed in a direction different than you assume!


	3. Chapter 3 Innocence and Ecstasy

**A/N I have to give some props to my beta, the incredible hellacullen, whom has supported me, fed me ideas and songs and told me to take a break when it was all getting too much. Laura, you are awesome. **

**Thanks also to Stephanie Poo235, who keeps me and my comma raging to a dull roar and who is going above and beyond beta duty call. Thank you!**

**Edward**

"Oh God, Emmett, did you smell her?" I cried, my hands clenched. Emmett and I stood in the alley behind the church. Emmett had nearly dragged me here from the inside of the church. I couldn't have made my feet comply with walking away from that smell.

I turned around and kicked the dumpster in frustration. The loud clang reverberated against the brick walls and the dumpster jumped a few feet, its corner completely crushed in.

I leaned forward against the brick wall, my arm covering my eyes. "How am I supposed to walk away from that?"

Knowing the source of that smell was just yards away was making me crazy. It was the smell of everything and anything that was good in this world. It was innocence and ecstasy together; it was the smell of life and joy, peace and desire, all topped with delicate floral overtones. I had no idea that a person could smell like that. If I had, I would have hunted them down long ago. I swallowed again. The venom was flowing as freely as if I were a starving dog looking at a T-bone steak.

But I was faced with something so much more tempting. The idea that one girl could smell that way was boggling my mind. Why would someone smell like that? How?

Emmett put his hand on my shoulder. "Bro, we can walk if you want. But I'm fine if you can't. I've been there. I'd understand."

Was that what I wanted to hear? I couldn't decide. This had to be some kind of sick, cosmic joke. As soon I as swore off feeding on humans forever, the single most seductive smelling human I'd ever met was placed in my path.

I had come with Emmett to Seattle; he was getting some custom parts for Rose—they were restoring a 1959 Thunderbird. I'd gone along for the ride to keep him company and use the chance to get reacquainted. He'd been filling me in on the last fourteen years and I'd been reminded of how much I missed him. Emmett was so straight up—he didn't have a thought in his head that he wouldn't say out loud—unlike many whose minds were layers of half-truths and self-deceit.

We'd had to wait for a while and as dusk approached, I looked for an appropriate place where I could go through my ritual of names. That's when the church caught my eye. It was empty; all the minds I could hear were distant. I'd told Emmett I'd catch up with him and then went inside. Though there were the small creaks and groans of a human habitat and I'd heard the officials milling about in the back, it had seemed empty. I'd lied down on a pew, content that I would hear anybody's thoughts if they were to enter the church, and had begun my recitation.

She'd snuck up on me, which was what amazed me most of all. I'd heard the small sounds, but I had been focusing on myself, and had been sure of my telepathy. It wouldn't have surprised me to have opened my eyes and seen a mouse, or a rat, but to see a human staring at me?

And a human _girl._ I could see every detail about her in my mind's eyes. She had looked up at me with huge brown eyes, trembling with fear. She'd been dressed in a white dress that seemed to float around her hips. Her brown hair had tumbled in gentle waves down her back. Her face was fair and heart-shaped and she had on white gloves. I hadn't seen those on a woman in forty years. It made her look fresh and virginal, untouched and young. Yet the body beneath the dress was very obviously that of a woman. High breasts and a narrow waist were accentuated by the generous cut of the dress through the hips.

Emmett was waiting for an answer from me. He was thinking about a time in Tuscany when he had run across a woman whose blood had called to him in a way that he hadn't been able to refuse. But that was Emmett; he had felt regret, but then had forgiven himself and moved on. He wasn't like me, tortured with self-recriminations and guilt.

"She asked me if I had come to take her." I turned around and faced Emmett. "She thought I was an angel."

Emmett looked at me, then his chest convulsed once. I saw the struggle on his face. I knew what was coming the moment I heard the words leave my lips. "Go ahead," I told him, resigned.

With that, he threw his head back and started laughing hysterically. "An angel?" he asked, barely able to speak. "Oh, that's rich." His laughter rang throughout the alley.

I smiled sarcastically as the image of me playing a lute with wings and a halo crossed his mind. "Yeah, it's a riot." I turned away and ran my hands through my hair, waiting for him to get a hold of himself.

Emmett stumbled back a step against the wall, holding onto his stomach, guffawing. I could feel the wrestle for control in him; he wanted to be serious and helpful for me. He really was trying to regain composure, but he lost it again, and another wave of laughter burst from him. I tried not to see the image of me and feathers floating around in his mind

"Great. Big fucking help," I snapped, losing my patience, as I started walking away while his hilarity felt like it was stabbing me in the back. I turned the corner of the alley and started walking down the street away from the church.

He ran to catch up with me. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry, but an angel?"

I shot him a warning glance out of the side of my eye.

"What did she think about me?" He looked eagerly at me, still grinning widely.

I stopped in my tracks. "I don't know. I couldn't hear her." I hadn't been able to read her thoughts at all, not a whisper, not a whimper. I didn't know what to make of that.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He was thinking I heard everyone.

I started walking again, furious. "I mean I couldn't read her at all. Nada. Zip. Zilch."

He frowned. "But you can read everybody."

A car passed us, its headlights on in the deepening dusk. A startled face looked at us through the passenger window. I forced myself into a more human pace. "Well, apparently not."

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, slowing his pace to match mine.

"I don't know." Every step away from the church felt wrong, utterly wrong. My body wanted to fly back to her, to look into her eyes again. Still, I kept striding in rhythm as though every step was a way of saying no, no, no.

He thought this over. "So where are we headed? The jeep's the other way."

That stopped me again. It was probably best if I left town, never came back here again. Best if I just forgot this ever happened, but I knew I wouldn't ever be able to. The memory of that fragrance would eventually drive me to some kind of action.

I ran my hand through my hair and turned around. Two blocks away, I saw her coming out of the front of the church, descending the stone steps gracefully, her white dress brushing about her legs. Thankfully, the wind was behind us. Or unthankfully because there was a hole in my chest that ran right down into my groin and I wanted nothing more than to run up to her, thrust my nose into her hair and start inhaling her aroma in huge gulps. To see those brown eyes looking up trustingly at me and to feel that warm soft skin in my hands. To see the pulse point at the base of her jaw and to kiss it while the sweet nectar raced just below the shivering, fragile skin. To feel her breath on my face as I nuzzled into her neck.

I turned away again, horrified at my own thoughts. Feeding on humans was an erotic and sensual process, but I had always tempered it by the careful selection of my victims. I had always remained in control and given them a clean, painless and swift death.

Isabella Swan I wanted to drain slowly, to lick at the blood as it seeped from her, to feel the frailness and fragility of her body under my hands, to literally feast on her. I could feel my cock hardening in my pants, imagining her naked body in my arms, and this only confused me further. I never felt aroused sexually by humans. Blood lust, yes, but imagining a human as a sexual partner? Never.

Or so I thought. I was torn in utter confusion. I couldn't make myself move farther away, and I wouldn't let myself go nearer. Here I was, barely days into my new choice of lifestyle and the most serious temptation of my life rose above me like a Goliath. The desire to have her, to drink her blood was rocking me and my new sensibility. I'd killed hundreds and hundreds, but never an innocent, never someone as pure as Isabella Swan.

Emmett was looking at me, wondering what I was going to do. His phone started to ring in his pocket. It was Iran's "I Can See The Future".

I rolled my eyes. "That has to be a ring tone for Alice."

"You are so right," he said, smiling as he flipped the phone out of his pocket. He listened for a moment and then held it out to me. "She wants to talk with you."

I put the phone to my ear. "Tell me something that will help me." It was as close to pleading as I'd allow myself.

"Seismic shift. I've never seen anything like it." She sounded awed.

"Uh, something that will help?"

"Destiny has arrived. Run if you like, but you'll be back."

"Does she have any chance?"

"Chance of what?"

It hurt me to say it. "Of surviving me..."

"Not as a human."

"Well, then what..?" I didn't understand. I was used to being able to hear people's thoughts. With the phone, I was dependent on their words.

"Every future that has you alive in ten years has her by your side."

"By my side? I can ignore that smell for ten years? I don't think so."

"I didn't say ignore it," she said softly.

"So what are you saying?"

"In every future in which you don't kill her, she is one of us."

"NO!" I roared. I threw the phone in my hand at the ground and it exploded into pieces.

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

I was seething. I would no more condemn an innocent to this half-life than I would kick them down a slide to hell. Because that's what it was, the constant torment of blood lust, the endless and useless struggle to find some meaning in a life that existed only by the means of the deaths of others; that was hell. Like I would bring that immaculate girl into a life of death and violence, into the shadowy existence of the undead. That would surely be the greatest sin I could commit. Greater than any of the deaths of the guilty I had caused. It would be better if I just snuffed her out completely. There was a part of me that leaped at that possibility. _Yes, to taste her and the sweetness of her blood._

I was trapped. The instincts of years rose up in me. I didn't care what Alice said, damn it. _Run._ Run from what tempted me most. Or run toward what my heart craved. I looked down the street to see Isabella's back. She trotted across the main avenue and started down a side street, her white dress and hair tousled by the breeze. I sat down on the curb at the side of the street, unable to decide whether I should run nearer or farther away. Behind me, Emmett picked up the pieces of his cell phone, smiling when he found the memory card intact.

I was near to crying as I watched Isabella vanish from sight down the street. Her beauty and her chaste purity had suddenly been overshadowed by something monstrous—me. "Emmett," I said my head bowed.

Watching me, Emmett grew serious. He recognized the set of my shoulders.

"Go. I'll see you back at the house." I couldn't ask him to witness my shame.

Instead, he came and sat by me on the curb, mimicking my position of arms around widespread knees. "I don't think so."

I looked over at him, cocking an eyebrow.

He was peering across the street, his strong profile darkening with the approach of night. "You've been alone too long, Edward. You have family." He turned to me, his face somber. "I'm here for you. I'll help you get through this."

His thoughts were full of his own human family and the brothers he had left behind when he had been turned. They were now old men with grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The Cullens were his family now, and he counted me as one of them.

Suddenly, my heart expanded. I raised an arm and brought our heads together in a man hug. "I don't deserve you."

"Nah, probably not," he smiled. "Be that as it may, I believe we have a dilemma before us."

"Ah, yes." I picked up a pebble at my feet and flicked it across the street where it pinged against a mailbox. "Emmett, what keeps you going?"

"Say what?" He hadn't followed the left turn my thoughts had taken.

"What keeps you going? How do you manage to face each dawn? What is there that makes you want to face another year, another decade?"

"Oh, we're going philosophical now?' he asked, a smile tiptoeing across his face.

"Yeah, I want to know."

He pursed his lips. "Well, there's Rose, of course. There's the family." He picked up another pebble, and followed my example, creating another ping as the pebble bounced off the mailbox. He shook his head. "You know, it's got to come down to the people. The people you love." He clasped his hands in front of him and looked at me. "Edward, we're all just slobs on the bus, trying to find our way home. The only thing we can do is keep each other company."

I didn't think I knew how to do that. I had been a solitary creature for so long. I wasn't used to having people around to talk to or having to explain my actions. But I had come to realize that my narrow, deluded life wasn't going to change without some kind of help. I would stop carrying the weight of the torch of justice which no one had forced on me. I had taken on that burden myself. And now I wanted to lay it down. I wanted to shuck off the cynicism and memories of violence like pulling off a winter coat on a spring day. I wanted to live and let live, like the rest of my family. I wanted peace. As sappy and sentimental as it sounded, I wanted companionship. I wanted to belong.

Down the street, headlights were approaching. I got back on my feet and stepped back on the curb, Emmett following my example.

It was Carlisle's face in my mind that made my decision. How could I face him if I fed on this girl? When I had been out feeding on society's dregs, I knew he at least understood. He knew I was trying in some way to take the life he had given me and find a meaning in it. If I gave in to the desire to take this girl, I wouldn't be any better than those I had so ruthlessly condemned. I wanted no more of death and brutality.

I felt the surrender before I knew what had happened to me. "Emmett, would you go get the jeep? I don't want to walk into that scent again," I said, waving my hand in the direction of the church where I was sure that incredible aroma still lingered.

"Sure," he said, nodding and then sped off on foot.

I waited on the curb for him, determined to put the whole matter out of my mind. But her face continued to haunt me. Those incredible, warm umber eyes, the delicate flush of her cheeks, the way her chest swelled with the intake of breath, every subtle expression she had during our exchange filled my mind—I wouldn't be able to forget any of them.

Emmett picked me up moments later and together we headed out of Seattle, soon riding along Route 101, winding our way home. He was worried for me; despite his chatter and attempts to draw me into conversation, I found myself becoming more and more obsessed with the idea of going back there and finding her. The further I got, the worse the need became. _Find her, find her, find her_… It became an incessant chant in my mind. To do what still wasn't clear, to kill her, to kiss her, to turn her, to… I couldn't even crystallize the need in my mind. The only thing I couldn't do was walk away from her. We passed Sappho and were just ten minutes from home when it became unbearable.

I cut Emmett off in mid-sentence. I didn't even know what he had been saying. "Thanks, Emmett, for trying to help. Tell Carlisle I'm sorry."

He looked at me startled, but I threw open the moving jeep's door and jumped out. I rolled onto the shoulder of the highway and, in one swift motion, rose to my feet and started running back to Seattle under the cover of the night.

I cut through the national park, passing through the dark forest like a knife thrown to a target. I swam twice, once across Dabob Bay and then across Puget Sound, and I was back in Seattle in two hours. The leather I was wearing was a bad choice for such an amphibious journey as it shrank and hardened as it dried. But I was beyond caring and my constant movements kept it supple at the joints.

At the church, I reconnected with her scent. It was even more incredible than I remembered. Like an addict following a line of coke across a mirror, I inhaled that fragrance, sucking it all in as it I followed it. After a half mile, I came to her home; it was a duplex apartment on the ground floor. In the darkness, I prowled around but she was gone. There were too many scent trails for me to track her accurately. But from the windows, the concentration of her scent was heady. I stood, shielded by the bushes, next to the bedroom window and just let myself revel in the fragrance. It was intoxicating.

I waited for hours. Eventually, I withdrew from my position and moved further back to a rooftop where I could see down the street to wait for her return. I tried not to think about what it was that I was doing, tried to keep my thoughts on the Now. I kept having to pull my thoughts away from Alice's forecast. A life with the undead or death—both terrible options. I hated myself for being the catalyst that had forced these paths on her.

She lived in a mixed residential neighborhood; there were small businesses mixed between the mostly single family homes and occasional duplexes. I watched the minimal activity in her neighborhood from my perch— fathers returning to families from work, a young couple coming home from a night out, teenagers visiting each other. Very human, very ordinary. And then there was me, the monster, lurking like a dark stain on the fabric of this humanity.

It was in the early hours of the morning when a car finally pulled into her driveway. Isabella got out of the car and said a few words of thanks to the woman behind the wheel. From my stance on the rooftop, I watched her enter the apartment. I watched as the car drove off, its headlights illuminating the road as it passed. I jumped from the roof to land soundlessly on the ground.

I skirted around to the open window, watching from the shadows. She was dressed in a yellow polyester waitress uniform with a white cotton apron. Her name tag read "Welcome to Ray's Diner. My name is Bella." In the tiny living room, a tabby cat was winding around her legs. She picked up the cat and murmured to it in her arms, "How's my Darcy tonight?"

She seemed so much more real, more human in the cheap synthetic uniform. Her hair was pinned up behind her head, revealing her white slender neck. I could see the bluish pulse point as it jumped slightly with each rush of blood through her veins. She looked vulnerable and fragile, and altogether delicious. I had to close my eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to break through the window. Her natural aroma was enticing beyond compare. I could almost feel the warm thick blood on my tongue and how it would feel to gently sink my teeth into that white virginal flesh and suck the dark, complex liquid from her. I edged a step closer to the window, seduced by the nearness of her.

No, I gritted my teeth with determination. I wouldn't take her when she was awake; I had no desire to cause her pain. I pushed the bloodlust down. I would wait until she was asleep and avoid causing her fear.

She passed by the window where I was lurking, the cat on her shoulder. The cat caught my smell and hissed from its perch. I shrank back into the bushes as she came to the window and gave a cursory glance out while calming her cat. "It's okay, Darcy. Nothing's out there. Come on, do you need food?"

She passed into the kitchen as I followed soundlessly to peer into that window. She poured kibbles into the bowl for the cat and got herself a soft drink from the refrigerator. She thumbed through mail, then put some dishes in the dishwasher, all of the small human actions of a woman in her home. I followed her from window to window as she passed into the bedroom. She took the clip from her hair and shook her hair free. I nearly gasped as a wave of that perfume swept over me. Again, I was hit with incongruous emotions. Even as it made me hard with need, it made me weak with desire. My knees felt as if they would give out while at the same time I could feel the rushing of heaviness to my groin.

She emptied the contents of the pockets of her apron onto the dresser top. The apron was untied and tossed into a hamper in the closet. I drew a breath as I watched her hands rise to the front of the uniform and lower the zipper from the neckline to well past her waist. The small cross she wore on a slender chain around her neck flashed once as the sides of her uniform parted and I caught a glimpse of the chaste white nylon and lace of her slip. I swallowed hard. The venom was flowing freely now as my eyes traveled the new bits of skin available to see. She bent over to remove her shoes and I caught the swell of her breasts and the dark shadow between them. Oh, this was a sublime bit of torture. I reached into my pants and shifted my aching erection into a less confining position.

She padded into the windowless bathroom and closed the door behind her. I turned and leaned against the brick wall of the house as I heard the shower start. The pause away from the fascination of watching her gave me a moment to think.

What the hell was I doing? I had sunk to a new low, even for me. As if being a murderer wasn't enough, now I could add Peeping Tom to my resume. The shame I felt would have driven a lesser creature away, but I was as rooted to the ground as the evergreen bush I stood beside. I rested my head back against the wall while my imagination ran wild with thoughts of water streaming down her body.

There were times in my life when I had looked forward to killing. There were the times when I felt the symmetry of justice as I took a life for a life taken. I had held the fearful and often outraged criminals in my hands and exalted as I gave them the payback they had so richly deserved. Never had I been seduced by their smell, their body or their blood. I had never _desired _the taste of a person as much as this innocent. Yet the thought of her dead and drained body made me feel like weeping.

When she exited the bathroom, she was dressed in a simple cotton camisole and a pair of shorts with the waistband rolled down. I could see the shadow of her nipples under the absurdly thin material of her shirt. It had lace and tiny white buttons down the front of it with a small bow at the neckline where thin satin ribbons laced together. The image of my fingers pulling at the tie of that bow so it gently came undone, and the top slowly falling open created a depth of desire in me I had never felt before. There was a thin slice where her top didn't meet the low line of her shorts, which sat well beneath her narrow waist. The belly beneath it was rounded and tender before widening to feminine hips.

I pulled away from the window again. I couldn't tell where the bloodlust ended and the sexual lust began. It was all mixed together in a crazy-making package that seemed to have been sent special delivery to my brain. I couldn't take this torture anymore. I pulled away from the house and sat across the street for another hour, trying to convince myself to go home with no avail. Then I saw the lights of her apartment go out. Pulled like a magnet to iron ore, once again I crept up to her window.

She was lying on the bed, her limbs spread out, obviously bothered by the heat. A wet tendril of hair stuck to her forehead and the hair beneath her neck was dark with sweat. I thought perhaps she had fallen asleep; her breaths were slow and regular. Then, in the dark, I saw her hand slip under her shirt and gently rub across her ivory belly. Her delicate fingertips moved languidly across her torso, mesmerizing me. My hands itched to feel the sensation; I knew it would be warm and silky, soft and tender. Transfixed, I watched as she pulled her shirt up above her breasts, exposing her torso with its feminine curves. The round creamy breasts, the shadow of her navel, the gentle curve between her hip bones were laid bare for me to see. Her hands rose slowly to cup her breasts. With her eyes closed, she brought her hands to her nipples and started to roll the beautiful pink tips between her thumbs and forefingers. A deep sigh escaped from her lips. She pushed her head to one side and started to breathe through her mouth. I actually held my breath as she slipped a hand beneath the elastic waistband of her shorts.

I was the worst sort of pervert, catching a young woman as she satisfied her own innocent urges. The shame I felt was boundless, but I could have no more torn myself away than have torn myself to pieces. Yet I felt linked to her in some incredible way and as her pleasure started to mount, I felt like I was there beside her, that it was my hands that searched for the spot that would give her release.

Her hand beneath the flimsy cotton of the shorts started to move rhythmically in circles around the apex of her legs while her other hand continued to pull and tug at her nipples. A beautifully delicate flush started to creep up her chest, suffusing her neck and face. Her breath came faster; she was panting now. Her head started to thrash back and forth; she was straining to reach her climax. Her hips started to move in counterpoint to her hand and her movements became more aggressive as I watched in total fascination.

Her brows furrowed and her face, in its concentration, was beautiful. It was that exquisite expression that seems to lie somewhere between pain and pleasure. Her eyelashes pressed against the milky softness of her cheeks and her full lips were parted. I longed to stroke her cheek and to put my hand on tops of hers as she caressed herself. Her back arched, and she sighed one word.

"Edward."

If I had been hit by lightning, I could not have felt more electrified. It was my name— my name she cried as she pleasured herself. I fell back against the wall of the house, my mind reeling. The churning pot of emotions I was experiencing boiled over. There was too much lust, bloodlust, guilt, shame, desire, fascination with her, disgust for myself to be contained in one creature. Damn Alice and her predictions, I would fight destiny, if that's what she was calling it.

Inside, I heard Bella slip out of bed. Curiosity drove me back to the window. She had fallen to her knees beside the bed. I could barely hear her whispering as she made the sign of the cross over herself. "Holy Father, please forgive me…"

I did what my instincts demanded—I ran. I bolted like the devil at the trumpeting of Gabriel's horn, not daring to look back.

* * *

A/N Yes, that's Joan Osborne song that Emmett paraphrases. Emmett likes Joan Osborne.

I know if you are new to the story, you might be looking at the the review count and thinking, Pish. She don't need my review. She's got enough. What could I say?

Well, here's the thing. I do want to hear from you. I do care what every reviewer says. I read and consider all of them, I may not agree with them all, but the great thing about fanfic is the communication between author and reader. So, tell me what you think, love it or hate it, warms you up or leaves you cold. I want to know. Thank you more than I can say.


	4. Chapter 4 Before God

A/N Please remember this is AU! Edward was never at Forks High School and Jacob had no reason and every inhibition against telling Bella about the 'Cold Ones' or his tribe's supernatural history.

**Bella**

The knocking on the door woke me up. Groggily, I looked at the clock radio on the table next to me: 2:34 P.M. Scratching my head, I rose to a sitting position and dangled my feet off the bed as Darcy brushed against my ankles. The knocking came again. I didn't know who it could be; the rent wasn't due for another week. I grabbed my robe off the chair and slipped it on as I ventured to the front door. Again, more knocking. Whoever it was, they certainly were insistent. I checked the peephole at the door and my heart dropped to my feet.

Jake. Through the fish eye peephole, I could see the tall outlines of my former boyfriend. I backed away from the door.

"Bella, please. I know you're in there," his muffled voice came through the door. I hoped my neighbors couldn't hear him. I stayed quiet while my mind raced. How had he found me? Why did he want to talk? The last time I had seen him, he was dropping me home after the disastrous visit to the Women's Health Clinic. Months later, I was finally pulling myself together and now he wanted to talk?

"Bella, please..." His voice was lower now, more pleading. My whole chest started to ache. I thought I was at a point where I had begun healing from the upheaval in my life, but hearing his voice ripped that facade away from me. I had hoped he'd gotten to the point of giving up; he hadn't left a message on my phone in weeks, but now he was at my door.

I took a deep breath and asked the Virgin Mary for the strength to render forgiveness where it was needed and for the courage to deal with Jake in a Christian manner.

"Please, Bells."

I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open. He looked absurdly happy to see me. There was that same goofy grin, the flashing dark eyes. A bolt of pain flew through me as I remembered those eyes and how beautiful they looked when closed in passion, wide with surprise, or crinkled with laughter.

"What do you want, Jake?" I asked him, resigned.

"Hi, Bella!" He smiled and took a step forward, like he was going to hug me or kiss me. The somber look on my face and my hand clenched on the doorknob barring his way made him rethink that particular move. "May I come in?" he asked submissively.

"What do you want?" I repeated, hoping he would say his piece and go. I always cried whether I was sad or angry, and I could feel both of those feelings swell up inside of me. I wasn't going to be able to keep my composure long.

He shuffled his feet as he stood at the top of the stoop and looked around. Two houses down, the Hansen kids were playing in the yard, but other than that no one was around. "I want to say I'm sorry," he said, his head hanging low. "Please, can we talk?" He raised his dark eyes to mine, searching my face, perhaps for the Bella I used to be.

Oh, if it were anything else, I would have gotten angry with him and slammed the door in his face. But here he was asking for forgiveness. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood back so he could come in.

"Thank you," he said as he walked past me, ducking his head past the doorframe. I still couldn't get over how he had shot up in the past year or so. When I first moved to Forks, we were not that far apart in height. Now, it felt like he towered above me. If I didn't know Jake better, I would have thought he was on steroids. Between the height and the muscles, he seemed far from the gangly kid that had first asked me out.

He took a few steps into the living room and ran his hand through his short, bristly black hair. That's what was different; he'd cut his hair.

I stayed where I was, folding my arms across my midsection.

"Nice place," he said, glancing around. He looked at me and I could see the longing and pain on his face. "You look good, Bella."

I'd gotten up three minutes ago without brushing my hair or my teeth and he wanted to tell me I looked good? I put my hand back on the doorknob. "Say what you came to say and then please go."

He took a step towards me. "I should have come to visit you when you were in the hospital."

"Yes, you should have." I was trying to keep my face hard and angry. It wasn't that difficult to do.

He turned away. "I just was so ashamed and guilty. I couldn't ..." He trailed off. "And then there was so much going on with the tribe."

"Oh, a lot going on with the tribe?" I asked icily.

"Yeah," he said uncertainly, picking up on the edge in my voice.

"A lot going on with the tribe. For three months?" With this, I could feel the anger and hurt start to overwhelm me. My voice started to shake but I increased the volume to compensate for it. "I was on my back for three months in that hospital and you couldn't come visit me once?"

He winced at that. "I am so—"

I cut him off as the flames of my anger took hold. "Don't you dare tell me how sorry you are, Jacob Black. I was in that hospital for three months trying to get over a botched abortion, and you couldn't find an hour to spend with me? Did they tell you what happened, Jake? Did they?" I was really starting to rip now and he took a step back.

"Did they tell you about the punctured uterus and the infections? Did they tell you about the weeks of pain and grief? Did they mention that-" and with this I took a breath for it would be the first time I said it aloud-"I'll never be able to carry children?" Tears started to collect in my eyes, but I was trembling with the force of my anger.

"Oh, Bella," Jake whispered, stunned with this news.

"Oh, yes," I said, knowing this was going to hurt him and not really caring. He should know the nature of the penance exacted on me. "The child you said should never come into the world. You didn't want to pass on your genes for some mysterious reason. Why was that, Jake? Oh, that's right, you couldn't tell me." I hated how bitter I sounded, but I was nearly choking with my need to get the words out. "Well, that's been taken care of, with me at least."

Under his warm brown skin, I saw him blanch with shock. "I didn't know. No one told me."

"If you'd come, I would have told you," I said, turning away so he wouldn't see as the tears started to collect in my eyes.

"Oh, Bells," he whispered, taking a step closer.

"Don't come near me," I snapped over my shoulder, all Christian thoughts of charity having flown from me. I could feel my throat closing up, and I swallowed hard against the emotion rising within me.

His face became full of pity. I couldn't take what I knew was coming next. "I heard about Renee..."

With that, all pretense of control broke within me. I'd lost Renee within weeks of landing in the hospital. She'd fallen down a flight of stairs. Something so trivial and everyday and in a moment she was gone. I had been too sick to even attend her funeral. So much had been taken from me. In the space of three months, I had lost both of my best friends—my mother, to an unexpected and undeserved death, and my boyfriend, who had betrayed me with apathy, no less. And the last cruel stab was that I'd also lost the ability to ever bear children again. I began sobbing in earnest now, and Jake, like my father, was undone by women's tears.

I tried to regain enough control to speak. "Leave, Jake. Please."

I could see his pain on his face and a very un-Christian part of me reveled in it. His arms spread and his hands turned out as if he wanted to gather me in his arms. "I would have come if I could. But the tribe..."

The part of me that still remembered the shared laughter and the nights of intimacy longed for nothing more than to find my spot on his broad shoulders and to feel his sheltering arms around me. But we'd had so much, and he had devalued it all. He had hated the way we were together enough that a baby was the last thing he had wanted. Now a baby was something I would never have.

The anger flared again, getting the upper hand. The tribe and its supposed needs were the subject of frequent arguments in the last weeks of our relationship. The tribe had started sucking up all his time; he had gotten secretive and wary when we tried to talk, and a wall had been thrown up between us.

"The tribe! The tribe!" I hurled the words at him, fighting the tears. "So, tell me about the tribe. Why is it they need you so?" I took a step towards him but the tears were making it hard to see. "Why can't they get along for an hour without Jacob Black?"

He reared away from me, his eyes wide. "I would tell you if I could. Please believe me. We're not supposed to talk about it."

That was the same old song I'd heard before. The same secrets. I collapsed into the chair by the window, holding my face in my hands, speechless with grief, sobbing hard enough that I was struggling to catch my breath. I missed Renee so much; it felt like my heart had been ripped from its place by the roots and smashed into a million pieces like a crystal vase. I was rocking in my chair like a heartsick child, trying to console itself. "Please, Jake," I moaned. "Leave, just leave."

I heard him take a step closer to me, and then he stopped. He was quiet for so long that I raised my head in curiosity, tears still streaming down my face. He was by the window, quivering with tension. I watched as his nostrils flared and a look of intense anger crossed his face. "What is it?" I asked. "What are you doing?"

He raised his face like he was sniffing the wind. It reminded me of just what a dog would do when it catches a trace smell and waves its head back and forth to try to track it. He strode into my bedroom while I sat, stunned by this odd behavior. He was back out in a flash.

"Have you noticed any odd strangers around?" he asked intensely.

"No," I said, shaking my head in bewilderment and sniffling. There was a tissue in the pocket of my robe and I used it gratefully.

"Keep you doors locked and your windows shut," he said crossly, peering out of the window.

"Jake, its ninety degrees out. I'm not going to sit in this hot apartment and cook while—"

He whirled and took a step towards me. "There are dangerous things in the world, Bella. Very dangerous things."

This was too much. I stood up and pulled the robe tighter around myself. "Well, thanks so much for caring, Jake," I said sarcastically. "I'll remember that." I walked pointedly to the front door and held it open.

His face fell again. Whatever he had hoped to accomplish by coming over had been quashed. "Bella..."

Without raising my eyes from the floor, I gave him what I could. "I'll pray for you, Jake."

He stopped in front of me as I held the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

I wouldn't look him in the eyes. "I forgive you. Now get the hell out."

He passed by me and I had the small pleasure of slamming the door shut before I collapsed to the floor, sobbing so hard I thought I would be torn into two. For a few minutes, I let myself explore the huge hole in my chest where I once could love and feel. After some time, I lumbered over to the bathroom to splash water on my face. My hands were still trembling as I hurriedly got dressed.

I needed to go to the only place where I knew I could regain some calm and equilibrium. I needed the placid and soothing atmosphere of my church so badly; it was the only fix for the bad feelings and emotions that had gathered like a storm in my head. When the pain got this bad, only prayer would give me a reprieve from the torment of my own thoughts. I needed to forget for a little bit, get a little respite and distance. I needed to kneel and bow my head before God.

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A/N Thank you to everyone who has been leaving reviews! Also, thanks to everyone who gave me names for Edward's next litany. You'll see them soon. It has been very gratifying to see all the people who have put this story on their 'alerts'. I hope to keep you interested!

Very special thanks to hellacullen and Poo235, my betas extraordinaire. If they are any mistakes in this story, it's only because I made them after they had a chance to edit.


	5. Chapter 5 No Rest For The Wicked

**Edward**

I knew what it was even as I was doing it: a fight-or-flight response. Also known as acute stress response. First stage of the general adaptation syndrome as defined by Walter Cannon. The biological response of animals to acute stress.

It seemed there was no rest for the wicked. I was back on the road, the miles flying by beneath the wheels of the hog. I passed through the darkness like a bad thought, letting distance be the answer to Isabella Swan. The roar of the engine seemed destined to be the soundtrack of my existence; the broken white lines of the road flying by would be my biography.

The more distance that passed though, the more I realized it wasn't so much the petite brunette woman I was running from as it was the reactions she had created in me. To have that kind of sexual response to a human woman was as baffling as it was frightening. The bloodlust was the lust I knew. Sexual desire was a territory I had passed through, but briefly.

Over seventy years ago, Carlisle had created Rosalie in a well-meaning attempt to help me find a mate. As it was, Rosalie and I were too much alike for us to be anything but siblings in the family Carlisle was creating. We both recognized this early, and Rosalie moved on and eventually found Emmett. I, however, spent the nights trying to compose music, studying biology, medicine and philosophy in an attempt to ignore the lovers' trysts that the rest of my family found so satisfying.

Though they tried to hide it, I could hear Carlisle's and Esme's concerns for me grow as time passed. When it finally became too much, I fled to Tanya. Tanya was more than happy to initiate me into the pleasures of sex. And then, when she tired of me, she was just as happy to see me on my way. It had been as I was leaving Tanya, disheartened and disillusioned, that I ran across the sadist who would be my first human victim. And with that, I felt the paths of romantic love and sexual desire close and the exhilarating rush of bloodlust take their place.

The ensuing years had only solidified my conviction that I was destined to be solitary. Having seen what lust and sex had done to humans, and how it was used as a source of power and a tool for gamesmanship, I was convinced that I should stay above anything so remotely animalistic as sexual love. I was glad for my family that they had found mates, but as they would not walk the path I was on, so I could not walk theirs.

Instead, in my head at least, I became the celibate avenging angel, meting out justice. Carlisle and Esme, Rosalie and Emmett, and eventually Alice and Jasper, all had each other. I had blood, justice and the road. For a long time, I had thought it was enough.

I watched the breaking of the day from the deck of the Port Townsend ferry. The seagulls wheeled above in the lavender and mauve sky, crying mournfully as they followed the fishing boats heading out to sea. The salty air was tangy with the deep smells of low tide, and the waves slapped rhythmically against the hull of the ferry. "Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh," I quoted to myself as I leaned over the brass rails, watching the dark water slide by the ship. I felt like I had been wounded in some way, but I couldn't point to the source of the pain. Just that something had been ripped from me. I suspected the stolen item was any chance of peace of mind.

I turned and rested my elbows on the railing, watching the land recede behind the stern—the land where Isabella Swan lived. At least she was still alive, and I granted myself the small congratulations that, this time as least, she had dodged the bullet that was me. I was ignoring the sense of connection I felt to her and how it stretched tighter and tighter with each step further away from her.

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, cupping my hands against the breeze. Cigarettes were a useful prop. It was an activity that humans could relate to and gave me an excuse to be hanging out here on the open deck versus the closed-in passenger area. My equilibrium was severely challenged; I didn't need to be in concentrations of humanity and the scent of their alluring blood.

The deck door opened on the lee side of the ship and a young woman, clutching her sweater around her, stepped out. I heard the woman, her thoughts pointed at me like a beacon. She slowly approached the rails, her thoughts speculating on who I was and what business I might be on that necessitated such an early morning ferry.

She pulled up against the railing a few feet from me, her hair blowing around her face, trying to study me surreptitiously. Of course, it was the vampire glamour she found attractive without even realizing it. "Would you happen to have an extra cigarette?" she asked as an opening. She tried to tuck her long windblown hair behind her ear.

I pulled out the pack and offered her one. She looked with interest at the pack. "Black Devil, huh? That's a brand I haven't seen before," she said as she pulled one out with her blood-red fingernails. "Is that some kind of commentary on their owner?" she asked, looking at me with hooded eyes, hoping it was seductive.

I probed myself and was gratified when I realized I had no desire for the woman. Apparently, only one woman created that in me. The bloodlust pounded below the surface, as always. That at least had not changed.

I reached for my lighter and offered the flame inside my cupped hands. She touched my hand to steady herself and was stunned by the cold hardness of my skin. She puffed once on the cigarette and raised her eyes to my face, her hand still resting on mine. I stared back at her. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown, I realized, and her hair was streaked with blond. Not like Isabella's. "What do you think?" I asked her.

She stared at me for a moment, her thoughts blaring at me. _Black eyes. Black eyes._ _Cold hard hand._ _Get away. Get away. Not human? No, human, good looking but odd, scary odd._ "Well, thanks," she said weakly, waving the cigarette and moving away. She crossed the deck, glancing once over her shoulder, reassured when I hadn't moved.

It was the same reaction I had seen over and over again. Humans were always drawn in by the physical attributes, like waving catnip in front of housecats. But then, the unconscious survival instinct kicked in, and they backed off. There had been exceptions; the tortured souls who were looking for death, in any form. From junkies to the well-heeled desperate socialites, fascinated by the scent of death and danger that surrounded me, they sought release from the pain they had made of their lives and courted me like groupies to a rock star. But I had no interest in helping them find the end of their existence. I kept my feeding to those whose minds were black, caustic and corrosive. They were the ones unlucky enough to see the avenging monster within me.

Or I _had_ kept my feeding to those, I reminded myself. My strategy would remain unchanged. I would try to keep 'vegetarian' as my family called it and hope that this crisis would pass and I could rejoin them in good faith, with a clear conscience. My heart sank at the prospect of spending even another year among the psychos and sociopaths, listening to their twisted thoughts and scenarios. I'd find some way to end it if that was my only choice. There had to be some way, some path to a life with more meaning than culling humans.

I reflected on last night. I had run back from Isabella's even faster than I had flown there. Alice had been waiting for me in the garage. I hit the button and watched the electric door slowly rise.

She swung her legs from the top of the counter where she was sitting. "It would be better for you both, you know, if you just gave in and started talking to her."

I said nothing as I strapped the travel bag to the back of the motorcycle. I had nothing to pack. Talking to Isabella would be the first step in either her becoming vampire or draining her, neither of which I wanted to consider as a viable option.

"Edward," Alice said, shaking her head. "I am just trying to tell you it would be easier this way."

My anger, which had been simmering all night, blew up then and Alice was the unlucky recipient. I whirled on her. "Stop it, okay, just stop it. You sit up here, dispensing advice like some kind of Delphic priestess, intoning your wisdom and prophesizing disaster to anyone who doesn't follow your instructions." I turned and checked the dipstick on the oil. "It's not that easy, Alice. Down here in the trenches, the choices seem much less clear cut."

I could feel how I'd cut her and without turning around, I winced. Jasper, drawn by her hurt feelings, wandered in.

Alice sighed in frustration. _Edward, I am trying to tell you this is what you have been waiting for. _

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Meaning. Purpose." She tried to keep it away from me, but I heard it anyway. _Love._

I stopped and let my head fall back. If only that were true, if only it were that easy. Still, her words created uneasy feelings in me. I'd closed that door a long time ago, and nailed it shut. It was going to hurt to try to open it.

Jasper sidled up to Alice. "You okay, babe?"

"I'm fine," she answered and put an arm around him. I could feel the connection between them like it was a tangible thing. It reminded me of all the times I had spent trying not to listen to their lovers' exchanges, knowing the intimacy and tenderness was something I would never have.

I straddled the bike and set the key. "I'll be back…" I had no idea when, but I finished with "when I can." I hit the starter and the engine roared to life.

Behind me, I heard Alice as I rumbled down the driveway. _Please Edward, come home soon. You just got here, and now you're leaving again._ My feelings, exactly.

I got off the ferry in Keystone and started for the highway. I'd been riding for several hours before I realized I was headed for Alaska. Why I was headed to Tanya's, I couldn't say. Perhaps it was only the resurrection of my libido that reminded me of her. Perhaps some small part of me hoped that I could bury myself in her enough to forget Isabella Swan.

It was late afternoon when I pulled off the highway for gas. I pulled the bike in and stopped on the near side of the pump island. On the other side was a white cargo van, its owner, a wiry, hard-looking man. Dressed completely in worn denim and a baseball cap, he glanced around suspiciously as he finished filling its tank. Under the outdoor roof above the pumps, I thankfully pulled off my helmet and gloves. Doing so, I caught the tenor of the man's thoughts.

_Dump the bodies._ _Lots of uninhabited areas._ _Find a dirt road. Price of gas so damn expensive. He's getting too old. Complaining, whining. He was good once though._ _Keep the littler one._ _For a while._

He caught me looking at him and nodded his head in greeting. _Hot stuff. Motorcycle, leather._ _Bet he was beautiful as an eight-year-old._

I felt something faintly reminiscent of nausea. Sure enough, there were two small weak threads of consciousness inside the van. There is a certain vacancy of thought that the severely abused get, almost like they are afraid to think, afraid to hope for the future.

The venom started flowing. I could feel the satiny moistness in my mouth. This was just the kind of meal I would have found most satisfying in the past. My hands itched with the desire to wrestle his hard, lean body into position, to bring his neck to my mouth. I wanted to watch as his eyes lit up with fear, glaze over with pain and then darken as his death poured into my mouth. I wanted to drain his body, pulling the blood from his veins as the rich, deep liquid filled me, hearing the slowing beat of his heart, until I could throw his empty body to the ground and relish in the rush.

Animal blood would never compare to the rush that human blood could give. It traveled one's nerves like fire, racing along the neural pathways, interacting with the venom to create a euphoric, inebriating sense of _aliveness_ that exploded outward from the center to the extremities. Those first few seconds were filled with an ecstasy that was so intense, so paralyzing, that it was at this moment of satiation that vampires were rendered most vulnerable. Those few moments, when as a blood drinker we wallowed in the sublime pleasure of a full human meal, were when we were least able to defend ourselves. The euphoria was quickly followed by frenzy, which was when we were most dangerous.

I watched the child predator as he finished pumping his gas. When he passed by me, I couldn't suppress the low growl building in my chest. He shot me a fearful glance and hurried into the store, his plan being to get soda and snacks for his intended victims to keep them quiet for a while longer.

I finished my own refill and, glancing at the convenience store, saw him perusing the aisles. I walked around to the far side of the van where I couldn't be seen, and yanked the locked door of the passenger side open. Taking a moment to crush the locking mechanism of the door, I stepped quickly into the hot and dark interior of the van. Seated on the floor in the back of the van were two boys, disheveled and frightened, looking at me with eyes glazed by hopelessness. The older one I guessed to be near twelve or thirteen years, with sandy hair wearing a Mariner's tee shirt. He sported a bruised cheek and was holding his arm as if it pained him. The younger one couldn't have been older than five and sat huddled against the older boy.

"What are your names?" I asked.

They huddled together tighter, the older one's distrust evident on his face. I checked out the window and then tried again. I composed my face as best I could into a less threatening scowl and crouched down in front of them.

"What are your names?" I repeated, softer. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"Timmy and Billy Sanderson," the older one said, spouting the names he'd been told to give if asked.

"No, your real names," I insisted.

He was too frightened to say them aloud, but I picked them from his mind. Jackson Helberger and Adam Mostevic.

"Jackson Helberger, that's your name, isn't it?" I said. "The police will be here soon. They'll want to help you, but you must tell them your real name."

His hazel eyes got round as he recognized his own name.

"Can you do that?" I asked. "Can you tell them what really happened?"

His eyes started to regain some light of intelligence, and I felt a seed of hope in his heart. Not taking his eyes from my face, he nodded slowly.

"Good man," I said as I patted his leg encouragingly.

I stepped out again and, coming around the back of the van, poked my finger through the sidewall of the rear tire. I heard the whoosh of air as the pressure left it and the van settled onto its rim. For good measure, I yanked at the tire rim until it was twisted and the tie arm damaged irreparably.

I headed into the store, passing the child predator, who gave me a wide berth as I entered the door and he left. I nearly snarled at him and I swallowed the venom coating my mouth. I concentrated instead on the image of what his outraged face would look like as he was being taken into custody. It felt good. I was saving children instead of killing them; this was how it should be.

The bloodlust didn't care, however. It rattled within me like a beast in a cage, roaring to be let out. It wanted blood, and my throat burned with thirst. I focused on moving slowly like a human, even as my muscles wanted to tense for the hunt and the kill.

At the clerk's counter, I grabbed a pen out of a holder by the register and one of the newspapers. The clerk looked at me in consternation as I wrote down the names of the children on the margin of the newspaper, the pen tearing the page with the force I was trying not exert on it.

I indicated the predator walking across the pump lanes with a nod of my head. "That man is a kidnapper. The children he has in the back of that van are missing children. These are their names. Call the police."

The clerk looked at me in disbelief. I gave him my most menacing stare. "Do it," I hissed.

He started back a step and reached for the phone.

I left the store and walked back to the bike. He was circling the van trying to figure out how it had become damaged so quickly. He looked suspiciously at me, but I stared back at him, daring him to accuse me. He looked away and started working on his story for the mechanics he would have to deal with, unaware the police would soon be here.

Fifteen minutes later, I had pulled off the side of the highway. I sat beside my bike and let the tremors caused by suppressed rage and bloodlust fade. I wanted to go back and kill him badly, very badly. I wanted to see the terror and fear on his face as he realized his death had arrived at my hands.

I wanted… I wanted… brown hair and a fair heart-shaped face, whispering my name with desire. I wanted to pull at the tie of a narrow satin ribbon and see a chemise slowly fall open to the shadowed curves beneath. I wanted to see Isabella's head thrown back with abandon and pleasure.

I rubbed my face, trying to clear my head. This was getting me nowhere. The sky was darkening, and the trees were making long shadows across the road. I pulled a little farther back into the tree line and composed myself under the sheltering branches of a huge maple. At least I didn't have a new name to add to it tonight.

_Benjamin Jolly  
Eric Northman__  
Christian Mcyntyire  
Aaron Ebert  
Christopher Siedow  
Hector Selenas  
Stuart Katz  
Lawrence Kelly  
Ivan Pryzgocki  
Raymond Burns  
Glen Coco  
Kevin Tokas  
Simon Ryan  
Anthony Lorinelli_

And the litany went on.

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A/N It amazes me how people find a story. Can I ask you, Reader, how you found this story? Was it just a random search and you just stumbled on it? Did you hear about it from a friend or a forum? Had you read something of mine before? Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6 Many Mysteries

**A/N** Thanks to everyone who have been leaving reviews, putting me on alerts, etc. You guys are awesome.

I have wonderful betas.

**Bella**

"Bella, order up!"

It was another night at Ray's Diner. The fluorescent lights gleamed off the glass and chrome of the diner's décor.

I walked over to the pass-through window and grabbed the plates for the couple at stools six and seven. Pancakes with bacon and a burger with fries, no tomato. "Thanks, Frank." I acknowledged to the man behind the window.

He wiped his forehead with his forearm, the spatula still in his hand. "We're 86 on the meatloaf special."

Arlene heard him as she passed down the narrow aisle behind the counter. "Well, thank heavens for small favors." She rolled her eyes, smiling a bit at me. Arlene had worked here for four years, which was most likely a record, and felt free to give the cooks as much sass as she wanted. She was a petite red-haired woman, who wore her hair up in a tight, complicated bun. Having just separated from husband number two, she was raising two teenage boys by herself.

I laid the plates down in front of the couple, who murmured their thanks. "Need anything else?" I asked, pushing the catsup closer to them.

"Nope, thanks. I think we're all set."

I headed back down the aisle to see Frank point the spatula at Arlene. "Don't start."

"Come on, Frank," she cajoled him, as she poured glasses of milk. "You've been pushing that meatloaf for two days. Ethan here is the only one that'll eat it."

Ethan, our teenaged dishwasher, looked up from his seat on the stool at the end of the counter, his face still flushed from working in the dish room out back. His whites were stained and dirty from his long shift, and he was shoveling in that meatloaf special like it was his grandmother's holiday cooking. He was redheaded like Arlene, but in his case, it didn't come from a bottle. The freckles sprayed across his face attested to his natural coloration. "It's good," he protested around a mouthful.

"It's okay, honey," Arlene said as she passed him, patting his head with the hand that wasn't holding the tray. "Someday, you'll know better."

I totaled the check for the couple at booth twelve and brought it over to them. "Anything else I can get you?"

They were a young couple; I guessed Hispanic by the warm color of their skin and her thick black hair. Next to the woman on the seat was a baby carrier with pink padding. Inside of it, a beautiful caramel colored baby was sleeping, her short silky hair adorned with a pink lacy bow. She had thick lashes that pressed against her full cheeks, and her full pouty mouth was slightly open. Her small chubby fist rested on the outside of the blankets, and it was the sight of that sweet little hand that made it suddenly hard for me to swallow.

"No, thank you. Just the check, please," the man answered with an accent. He was darkly tanned and was thin and wiry in a way that suggested he'd done a lot of outdoor labor.

I tore my eyes away from the baby. "That's a beautiful baby you have there," I said, picking up the empty dishes from their table.

The woman flashed me a smile that made her somewhat plain face light up with pride. She looked with maternal love at the sleeping infant beside her. "Thank you."

I turned away before she could see my face and walked through the swinging door into the back, dumping the dishes in the dish room. Ethan was out front so I knew I had a moment alone back here. I grabbed the edge of the sink to steady myself and took a deep breath. _Blessed Mary, Mother of all that is holy, give me the strength to bear my penance with grace and dignity. Once again I beg your forgiveness and ask for the courage to lead the life I have been granted in step with Christ's teachings. Keep me from evil and let me stay within the circle of God's light._

Arlene pushed through the doors. She took in my bowed head and the way I was clutching the counter's edge. Putting a hand on my back, she asked, "You all right, honey?"

I took another deep breath and turned around, managing what I was sure was a rather half-hearted smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, trying to make myself believe it.

She frowned and reached out to touch my check gently. "Then how come you're crying?" she asked softly, holding up a finger that was wet with a tear I hadn't realized had escaped.

I turned and started stacking some dishes. "Did you see that baby on twelve?"

"Sure," she said softly.

"Sometimes it hurts, knowing that's something I'll never have." Solemnly, I looked at her, willing myself not to let go of my control.

I was almost undone by the way her face softened as she put a comforting hand on my arm. "Oh, honey, I didn't know…"

Frank stuck his head in through the door. "Hey! Can we get some waitresses out here where the customers are?"

"Shut the fuck up, Frank," Arlene retorted over her shoulder. "We'll be out in a goddamn second."

Frank's eyebrows rose; he wasn't used to Arlene kicking it up to that level. Abashed, he withdrew and the door swung back.

I shook my head. 'I didn't mean to dump on you, I'm sorry."

"Oh, Bella," she said, pulling me into her arms for a hug. "That ain't dumping. It's okay. Life will work out, some way. You'll see, honey"

I hugged her back, flooded with affection for her. She reminded me a bit of Renee, in that she was the kind of person who always said what was on her mind-always ready to share or give a hand. I knew she wasn't a churchgoer, but she was the kind of person that Christ talked about as the salt of the earth. "I suppose we should get out front before Frank has a cow," I said.

"Well, if he did, it'd be tomorrow's special," she said tartly, leading us out the door.

The rest of my shift passed uneventfully and things were slowing down when the front door of the diner opened and Father Brian walked in. I immediately started smiling; he was my priest and my confessor, but even more than that, he was my rescuer. He was dressed casually this morning in khaki pants while the black and white of his priests' collar peeked out from beneath the blue collar of his work shirt. He was young for a priest, in his mid-thirties, with sandy hair receding slightly from his forehead and light blue eyes in a tanned face. His muscular build and thick forearms led people to believe he was a construction foreman, until they saw the collar.

"Good morning, Father," I said, walking up the aisle as he took his customary stool at the top of the counter. It was he who had gotten me this job.

"Good morning, Bella." His eyes crinkled appealingly as he smiled. "How's my favorite waitress this morning?" It was morning even though the sun wouldn't rise for another three hours.

Arlene came up behind me, reaching for the coffee cups. "Now, I thought _I_ was your favorite waitress," she teased him.

"Oh, you're my favorite _redheaded _waitress," he responded back. "Bella is my favorite _brunette_ waitress."

"Wiggled your way out of that one," Arlene said. "But just barely," she admonished him before heading back down the aisle.

"What can I get you?" I asked him.

"Just coffee today, thanks, Bella." He ran his hand over his short crew cut.

I brought a cup over to him. "So, how are things on the streets today?" Father Brian worked outreach with the homeless many nights, taking the sick to hospitals or clinics, helping addicts find a spot in rehab, or just ministering to the lost and abandoned that wandered Seattle's streets.

He shook his head. "Not good. Kid got shot over on 14th Street this morning." His face reflected his distaste for the violence and bloodshed.

That was just two blocks away. "Wow," I said, stunned that it was so close.

"The gangs are at it again," he said, reaching for the sugar. "It's not good."

Frank had wandered out from the kitchen area, the apron that covered his substantial gut speckled with grease. The post-bar rush was over and we wouldn't start picking up until sunrise. I checked the clock; my shift would end in another half hour.

"Hey, Father," Frank greeted him, "I think we had some of those boys in last night."

"Well, be careful," Father Brian warned, stirring his coffee. "They're trigger happy, what with everything that's been going on."

"Don't worry," Frank said. "I've got friends." He pulled out the baseball bat that he kept under the cabinets and smacked it a few times into his palm.

Arlene came up behind him. "Well, that's not going to do you a whole lot of good against a gun," she pointed out.

"This has chased out many troublemakers, I'll have you know," he said with a scowl, putting the bat away.

"Yeah, almost as many as your meatloaf." Arlene rolled her eyes while the Father and I snickered.

Frank spun around to face her. "What in God's name do you have against my meatloaf?" "Oh, sorry, Father," he apologized over his shoulder.

Father Brian waved it off as Arlene led Frank down the aisle. "Well, for one, you use too many capers…"

"You got that truck of yours back on the road, yet?" Father Brian asked me.

"No," I replied, wiping at the counter. "It's going to need a new engine, so I am on foot for the time being."

"I can hook you up with a good mechanic, if you need one," he offered.

I shook my head, a stab of pain reminding me that I used to have a good mechanic—Jake. I wouldn't be using him anymore. "You've already done so much for me…"

I owed Father Brian so much. He had found me in the hospital, recovering from yet another staph infection, while the doctors were debating whether they would have to remove my uterus completely or whether to try to repair itit enough so I could keep it, even if it wasn't functional in the traditional sense. While I had been desperate and grieving, eaten up by guilt and shame, he held my hand when Charlie came to tell me the news of Renee's death. That was the first time I had ever prayed out loud with somebody.

He had saved me in every way that counted and how do you thank somebody for that? His innate goodness and his passion for Christ had brought me to the waters of the church for which I would forever be grateful. This man walked in Christ's footsteps; that much I was certain.

"Well, I can at least give you a ride home. What time do you get out?" he asked.

"Well, soon," I said, looking at the clock.

"Why don't you all go on, honey?" Arlene spoke up. "It's slow tonight. I'll finish up the condiments."

"You don't mind?" I asked her, glad at the thought of not having to walk the two miles home.

"Not a bit," she said, smiling

"Give me just a few minutes, and I'll be ready," I promised Father Brian and started getting my end of shift work done.

He raised his coffee cup. "Take your time."

Ten minutes later, I pulled on my sweater and came around the front of the counter. "I'm ready," I said breathlessly.

We said good night to Arlene and Frank and I climbed into the van Father Brian drove.

"Thanks again," I reiterated as he turned the ignition.

"No problem," he said, backing out of the parking space. "I don't like to see you on the streets walking this late."

He pulled out into the street and started for my house. "I heard from the Monsignor about your fainting spell."

"Oh, that," I said, a bit embarrassed and unsure of his reaction after the Monsignor's negative one.

"He says you imagined an angel." He searched my face for a moment before turning back to the road.

I looked down at my hands. "I didn't just imagine him. He was there."

He looked at me expectantly.

"I don't remember too much, but he was beautiful. Like a human, but perfect."

Father Brian smiled at me.

I sighed. "You don't believe me, do you?"

He shook his head. "I would never gainsay someone else's experience with the supernatural, Bella. The important thing is whether you believe."

"Oh, I do. I do. He was so beautiful and so sad. When I looked in his eyes…" How could I tell Father Brian the feelings that angel had created in me? I felt myself blushing as I remembered the erotic fantasy I'd had concerning him. _It must be wrong to feel about Edward in that kind of way, right? _I was grateful for the darkness of the van; the dashboard lights were not enough to give me away. "They were golden," I whispered. "His eyes were golden."

"Did he have a message for you?"

"No," I said, frowning and trying to remember. "He said his name was Edward and he couldn't hear me. And that I smelled good."

"You smelled good?" he asked, smiling.

I giggled. It sounded ludicrous when spoken out loud. "I know it sounds crazy, but ..." I struggled to find the words. "Have you ever felt there was a moment in your life when your whole existence hinged on what happened in those precise seconds? Like fate was watching you with its breath held?"

"I felt something like that when I knew I had been called to the church," he said thoughtfully.

I was quiet, thinking about the feeling of expectancy that was coursing through me. Suddenly, I knew with a certainty that rocked me that I would see Edward again. Somehow, some way.

"There are many strange things in the world, Bella. God has many mysteries to reveal," he said, turning onto Madison Street. "But I need to caution you; be sure that what you see is truly from God."

"I will," I promised. I shook my head. "Why me?" I wondered.

"Why not you?" he replied. "You are a child of the Light. You recognize the value of love." He searched for words. "There is an innate grace in you, Bella. You seek truth. That is less common than you'd think."

I pursed my lips. "I don't feel very full of grace," I said disparagingly. "Jake came to see me yesterday."

"Oh?" he questioned, knowing my history with Jake.

"He wanted to say he was sorry for not coming to see me in the hospital."

"Do you think he was?"

"Was what?'

"Truly sorry."

I knew Jake well enough to say yes to that, but I hated his inability to tell me what was going on in his life that had been and still was affecting him so much. "Yes," I finally answered. "I've tried forgiving him. I just haven't been very successful."

"You're still angry with him."

"Oh, yes," I said, nodding my head.

"Pray for him," he said simply.

"I've tried that," I replied.

He pulled into the driveway of my duplex, shifted the van into park, and then turned to me. "No, Bella. Really pray for him, for his well-being every night. Your prayers may not affect his life, but they will transform yours."

I sat still for a moment. The darkness was giving me courage I didn't normally have. "I need to ask you something, Father."

"Of course."

"Do you think what happened to me was punishment for what I'd done?" This was a question that had haunted me for some time. Had God chosen me to wreak vengeance on because of the abortion?

He sighed. "I don't know God's mind, Bella. But I believe God loves us, all of us. He wants good things for all of us, you included."

"Well, thank you," I said, putting my hand on the door handle. "Will you be hearing confessions this week?"

"Thursday morning and then Friday night."

I got out of the van. "I'll talk to you then, I guess. Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure, Bella. Have a good night."

"You, too," I said and then shut the door.

I prayed that night for a long while. I prayed that Jake would find happiness and I asked for the forgiveness of the long list of my sins. I prayed for Charlie, that he would find a loving relationship with Sue Clearwater, and that he could come to terms with my new choices. I prayed for Renee's soul, and that despite her lapsed status, that she be allowed a place in heaven.

I prayed longest for Edward and for Christ to accompany him on whatever mission he was on and grant him success.

**************

**A/N** A thread on Twilighted has been set up by the sweet brighterthansunshine. Please come by and leave a note, a name for Edward's litany, or whatever.

www . twilighted . net / forum / viewtopic . php?f=33&t=6149 I will post teasers on there as well, so come on by!

Many wonderful people are leaving reviews. Please be one!


	7. Chapter 7 Apologies to Isabella

**A/N Another round of thanks to my marvelous betas, Poo235 and hellacullen. To everyone who has reviewed, put me on their alerts or PM'd me thank you! You all are awesome.**

**Edward**

I sat on the deck of the Denali coven's house that overlooked the gorge. Spread out before me was the National Forest, and the Nenana River rumbled below. No one had been home when I had arrived in the early afternoon, so I had jumped onto the deck and waited, watching the sun move in the sky and the eagles hunt from their vantage points, hanging in the sky like they were pinned there. A small herd of deer crossed the river sometime at dusk. I'd caught sight of them just as I had finished my litany.

The sun had set majestically over the Alaskan range and the crickets had come out in full force. The stars glittered fiercely in the moonless night and around me, I heard the night animals awaken and greet the darkness. Sometime soon after, I heard Kate and Tanya's car arrive. It wasn't too much later that I heard the screen door bang and Tanya settle into the deck chair beside me.

We both sat listening to the night sounds. I heard her wondering why I had shown up on her doorstep.

"I don't really know why," I said truthfully.

"So, tell me what is going on?" she asked in that lilting voice that contained just the slightest trace of intonations from her native language. Tanya had been made early in the last millennium, and although I'd heard her speak in a variety of languages and dialects, she slipped into old patterns when relaxed. "Have you come for a return engagement?" she asked playfully.

I realized the truth in my words as I said them. "No. You are beautiful, Tanya, but…no." There was no one that I wanted to get close to except the one whom I had run away from.

"So then, what brings you to my doorstep, looking like a cross between a lost fawn and a loaded gun?"

I am…" I began, searching for words for the knot of emotions inside me, "confused."

"Well, that makes two of us," she replied. "I don't see you for years and years. You never visit. I thought we were friends."

"And I thought we were more than friends," I said, looking out over the yard. A fox trotted stealthily along the clearing at the side of the house.

She looked at me curiously. "Sometimes I forget how young you are." I gritted my teeth against the condescension I heard in her thoughts.

Seeing the tension in my face, she sighed. "Edward, when you have lived as long as I have, you will realize how terribly monotonous life is. Change becomes a necessity."

Outside of the Volturi, Tanya was among the oldest of our kind, and certainly, she was very good at taking care of what pleased and amused Tanya. After several hundred years, I supposed one had to be. Less hedonistic and narcissistic souls seemed to eventually get bored enough to end it all. She considered me hopelessly young and naive for expecting that our relationship, brief as it may have been by immortal standards, would ever have been monogamous.

I heard the surprise in her thoughts as she realized my eyes were gold. "Last I heard, you were living nomad."

I let the past go. Life was too long to hold onto every hurt or grudge. "Well, change became a necessity," I said, smiling at her.

She threw her head back and laughed. "And how is the rest of the family?"

"Good. Did you know they were back in Washington State?"

"Yes," she answered. "I had heard that. Carlisle is still doctoring?"

I nodded.

"Ah," she sighed. "That man is a charming enigma. I don't know how he does it."

I got up out of my chair and walked over to the deck railing. Down below, in the floor of the gorge, the river thundered. "There is a woman."

She nodded, her own suspicions confirmed. "So, tell me. Who is she?"

I rested on my elbows on the railing. "You wouldn't know her."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I know most of us in the New World." She waited for my response but I had none for her. It hit her then. "It's a human, isn't it?" When I didn't deny it, she laughed. "Edward has it for a human. Oh, that is funny."

I ran my hand through my hair. I had always felt Tanya's use of human lovers was a bit beneath her. She knew I felt that way, but it had never stopped her; it was the one of the things that had finally driven us apart. I turned to her and crossed my arms across my chest, waiting for her.

She studied me, assessing my mood. "Well, she must be very special if she has captured your attention," she said, wondering what kind of woman it was that had managed such a feat.

"My attention, ha!" I said bitterly. "My obsession is more like it. I can't stop thinking about her. Yet, we haven't exchanged more than a handful of words. She haunts me."

"I love human lovers. They are so…warm," she decided, wriggling a bit for emphasis.

"She smells so incredible," I said, shaking my head. "Like joy and ecstasy and life all rolled together. It's unbelievable."

She rose from her chair and stepped up close to me. Not taking her eyes from mine, she reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, letting her hand slide along my chest. She pulled out my pack of cigarettes and shook one out for herself. Her eyebrow cocked, to offer me one as well, but I shook my head. She replaced the pack in its pocket and patted my chest. I pulled out my lighter and offered her the flame.

She bent down to the flame and took a puff, then raised her head to blow the smoke into the wind. "Well, it sounds like you have found yourself a singer." I'd heard of those, but if it hadn't been for Emmett's recollections, I would have thought they were a myth.

"Alice says she is my destiny." I finally was beginning to believe that particular forecast.

"Ah, Alice, the seer." She nodded, the pieces coming together. "Is this human woman your motivation?" she asked curiously. "Is that why you have golden eyes?"

"No, I need to come off the road. I am tired of using thugs and killers as my food source." There was so much more to that answer, but I left that discussion for another time. I turned to the railing. "I can't hear her mind at all."

"Ooh, a mystery for you. That must be refreshing."

I grimaced. "It's frustrating, is what it is."

"Well, I think you will find it easier to bear the thirst, if you take a lover."

The thought had never occurred to me. "Why is that?"

She took another pull off the cigarette. "Lust is lust. Everybody has to get their rocks off some way." She gestured with her hand. "Look how your family has paired up."

"Is that it for you?" I had never heard this theory before.

"Me? Oh no," she chuckled. "It is a matter of convenience for me. I stay away from killing humans because I'm comfortable here. Makes it easier to stay in one place and get to know the local population." She winked at me before leaning back against the railing. "Carlisle is the compassionate one."

Compassion. I seemed woefully short of it. "I'm not going to be able to leave her alone. That would be the compassionate thing to do." It hurt to admit it, but I had to be honest with myself. It was painful right now, being away from Isabella.

A thought stopped me cold, sending shivers down my spine. Isabella was human—humans got hurt and died all the time. What if something happened to her? Alice couldn't foresee everything. What if she got in an automobile accident or… just about anything? They were so incredibly fragile. My imagination started running away with me and it took every ounce of control I had not to jump on the bike to race back to Seattle immediately.

I hated this. I hated feeling like I wasn't the one in control. I was used to being as free as I cared— to go where and when I wanted. I followed the rules, but they were rules that _I_ set. Suddenly, I had a whole new set of priorities thrust on me.

"So, what are your choices?" Tanya asked, assessing me like I was a lab specimen.

The choice I wanted was the one that was apparently beyond me, to walk away leaving Isabella untouched. The choice that scared me the most was the one that whispered to me in the darkest recesses if my soul, imagining how sweet and pure her blood would taste. Some part of me was ready with rationales: I'd killed so many, what was one more? Would the death of one girl be such a tragedy? Would she even be missed?

"Aarggh," I yelled, letting out a strangled cry. "I can't leave her alone! I won't kill her!"

I turned to Tanya. "What do I do?" I asked her, anguish burning through me like acid. "Do I ask Carlisle to turn her?" Was that something Carlisle would even consider? Was it really what I wanted for Isabella?

I knew I would never have the restraint necessary to turn her. I couldn't even entertain the thought that I would have the self-control in the presence of that smell to be able to stop at the point just before death. "There's not much compassion in forcing her to become vampire."

"Well, more than ending her life," she pointed out. "You know, she might choose to join you." She smiled lopsidedly. "You are not unattractive. Maybe you should just get to know her."

"Get to know her?"

"Sure, and let her get to know you," she said. "You know, date her." She raised her chin, smiling. "Maybe even screw her." She opened her eyes wide, playfully.

Date her? Date a human? There were such discrepancies in our strength and durability. "Tanya, don't you ever hurt somebody when you are, well, during coitus?"

She laughed at both my question and my euphemism. "No, it just takes some practice." She frowned as a memory flicked in front of her mind's eye, then shrugged the remembrance off. "You know, humans are more than a food source. They can be remarkable companions."

"So I've heard," I said, smirking.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "A mate would be a very good thing for you, I am thinking. It will help with the bloodlust. It will be hard for you though, after feeding on humans for so long." She stepped up to me and affectionately pushed a lock of hair back from my face. Then she stepped back and gestured at my outfit. "And despite the biker-boy-bound-for-hell image you like to project, underneath you are very much a romantic."

She took a last puff and flicked the cigarette off into the night. "Carmen and Eleazar are in Bolivia. Stay and hunt if you like. No one is using the green room."

She walked back into the house, shaking her head. _Edward asking me for human love advice. He never fails to surprise me. _

Some part of me desperately wanted to believe that I could court Isabella Swan. I let myself dream that she would accept me as a suitor. Perhaps if I were very careful, made sure I was fully fed before I saw her…

And if not, well then, one of us would die.

I whispered her name. "Isabella Swan." Just the sound of her name aroused me. I felt the need to get back to Seattle like I remembered my former need to breathe. It was an oppressive need that grew and grew until it became all you could think of. It became more intense with every hour that passed. Yet, I held off returning for a while longer. There was so much at stake here and she was such an unknown entity.

Some small part of me was furious with her. How dare she upset my equilibrium this way. Perhaps there would be an accident…NO! My mind refused to entertain any thought of harm to her.

Perhaps there was a third path after all. Perhaps I could deal with the smell long enough to explore my newfound libido. Perhaps we could become friends; maybe she would even come to want me.

I shook my head in disbelief at my own fantasies. Like she would want me, the creature of shadows. The doubts immediately started to rage. But I knew I was going to go back to her. I had no choice in that, just as when I was human, I had no choice but to breathe. Fate was playing terrible games with us both, I realized. Our lives had become irrevocably intertwined because of one chance meeting in a church. She didn't know it, but I would have her blood or her body, maybe even both.

I remembered the image of her leaving the church, her white dress and hair being caressed by the wind. _I am so sorry, Isabella._

I jumped the gorge and did some hunting in the park where the predators were abundant. The sun had begun to rise as I came back to the house. It was quiet, but I heard Kate and Tanya upstairs murmuring to each other. I walked over to the TV to see what the weather was to be for the ride home. The TV flickered on, and I looked around for the remote to change the station to the Weather Channel. I turned to the sofa and froze at the words of the announcer.

"... identified as Jackson Hellberger and Adam Mostevic. Their bodies were found inside the van found at this service station in Prince George." I turned around to recognize the gas station I had stopped at and I felt the anger erupt in me like an explosion. The camera panned back to the reporter. "Police say the boys were shot execution-style at close range and advise all residents to be on the lookout for this man." A police artist's sketch showed a passable rendering of the predator I thought I had neutralized. "Anyone with information on his whereabouts should contact the Prince George police. Authorities caution the public to call the police, do not approach this man. He is considered armed and dangerous."

I stepped outside, trembling with suppressed fury. I picked up a wooden deck chair, and with a huge roar, heaved it so it sailed across the gorge. It crashed into the trees on the other side of the river, sending a flock of startled birds into the air. I stood there clenching my fists. _Fucking humans. How had they screwed it up? I gave it to them on a platter_. I remembered Jackson's face as he had nodded at me, finally seeing some hope. _He'd been killed, what, ten minutes later?_

Tanya appeared beside me. She sighed, resigned. "That was part of a set," she said wistfully.

"I have tried to save them from themselves," I hissed, grinding my teeth. "But it is like trying to empty the ocean with a Dixie cup."

"Just because something is futile doesn't mean it's not worth doing."

I looked at her in surprise. She had never indicated that she understood my brand of vigilantism before. I shook my head. "I won't go back to that."

"Then don't."

I still felt the pull of wanting to see justice done. "So evil should continue unchecked?"

"Who put you in charge of checking it?" she asked, scoffing. "You do what you can. I think you've done your share."

I looked across the gorge where the chair had disappeared. "I'll go get it," I volunteered.

She put her hand on my arm. "Forget it. It's probably just splinters now anyway."

I ran my hand through my hair. It was time to go. "I am leaving."

"I'm not surprised. Where are you headed?"

I strode across the deck and down the steps. "Off to meet my destiny."

I heard her low, melodious laugh as I hopped on the bike and hit the starter. As I headed towards the highway, the thoughts repeated in my head. _I am coming for you, Isabella, I am so sorry._

_*****_

A/N Please come by and check out the twilighted thread, I'll use it to answer questions, post teasers, and give advance warning of updates. I have been updating twice a week, but I am afraid that is going to slow down a bit as we get further into the story, but I pledge no less than once a week.

http:// www . twilighted . net / forum/viewtopic . php?f=33&t=6149

Oh, and please review! I'd love to hear from you.


	8. Chapter 8 Into the Den of Lions

**This chapter contains a description of a graphic violent attack. Please be warned. Skip it if you need to.**

**Bella**

Arlene stood behind the counter watching me, her hands on her hips. "You sure you don't want to stick around? Maybe just have a cup of coffee or something? Selena will be here in an hour and then I can drive you home,"

I pulled on my sweater and pulled my ponytail out of the collar. "No, thanks anyway. I'm beat. I need to get out of here. I can be home in twenty minutes. " I'd just had an eight hour overnight shift; it was four o'clock in the morning and waiting around another hour was not an appealing idea. I wanted to go home and take off my shoes and stockings, count my tips and crash.

"Well, you be careful," Arlene said, frowning.

"Don't worry, I will. Good night, Frank!" I yelled into the pass-through. He was bending over the ice machine and waved a hand at me in acknowledgement.

"See you Friday," I told Arlene as I pushed the door to the diner open.

"G'night, hon," she called.

Thankfully, the night was cooler than it had been lately. It wasn't humid, so it wasn't a bad night to be walking. The streets were deserted at this hour with just an occasional car going by at the cross street ahead.

My footsteps echoed against the buildings and the concrete sidewalks. Not too many streetlights in this section, but it would be better lit as I got closer to my duplex. I fell into the rhythm of walking, my hands thrust into the pockets of my apron.

I had the next two nights off, so I was planning what I would do with my time. I had some library books to return, and I wanted to catch up with my father. Maybe he'd come get me and bring me back to Forks. I could check in with that junk yard in Olympia and see if they had found a matching engine for my truck.

My mind wandered over my conversation with Jake. I hated how I had fallen apart in front of him. Next time I saw him, I'd keep it cool—aloof—even though I missed him terribly. I missed his laughter and the way he'd wrap me in his arms and pick me up like I weighed nothing. I missed the way our bodies had moved together.

Up ahead at the stop light, a sole car was waiting at the red light. It was an old American car with a door panel painted a flat grey. The bass beat was thumping from it loud enough that I could hear it from a block away. The light turned green, and the tires squealed as it took off down Alder. I could hear it fade into the distance.

I kept walking past the construction site of the new high rise and the Starbucks on the corner. It was open, but there were only a handful of customers sitting at the tables. I turned onto 28th Avenue when I heard a car come up the road from behind me. Hearing the thumping of the bass beat, I glanced over my shoulder. It was creeping up the street slowly, like a predator stalking prey, and when the music suddenly cut out, the hairs started to rise on the back of my neck. The silhouettes of several people in the car were barely visible, and as it passed under a streetlamp, the face of the male driver, young and hard, flashed briefly. I thought about heading back to the Starbucks, but that meant I would have to pass the car which wasn't a good idea if the people in that car were looking for trouble.

I decided to take a quick left onto Spruce Street and rounded the corner quickly. There was a basement entrance to the building on my left, so I quickly descended into the dark, dank stairwell and ducked so I couldn't be seen from the street. My mouth got dry when I saw the headlights from the car sweep the wall across the street; they were trying to follow me. My heart started beating faster. Suddenly, I felt like a rabbit crouched in the underbrush as a fox trotted past. This was not good. Definitely not good.

I breathed a little easier when I heard the car move down the street, and I peeked out of my stairwell to see the red taillights of the car as it took a right. Jumping out of the stairwell, I took off, retracing my steps back onto 28th. I had gone another block when the same car came screeching around the corner. It pulled up and stopped in the street next to me. As soon as I realized there were three men getting out of the car doors, I started running. My father had always told me to run at the first sign of trouble; don't wait around to see what form it was going to take. So I took off running, my heart already starting to thump in my chest hard enough that if felt like it would jump right out of it. Above the slapping of my shoes on the concrete, I heard them yelling and laughing behind me, and it frightened me even more. I glanced back over my shoulder._ Shit!_ They were coming after me.

"Come back! Come back!" they yelled. "We just want to ask you a question!" There was laughter accompanying this; apparently even they couldn't believe their own lies.

_Yeah, right. _If I got hurt, my father was going to be so pissed. He hadn't wanted me to move to the city, just because he feared for my safety.

I put my head down and concentrated on the act of putting some distance between me and danger. The change in my apron pocket bounced against my thigh heavily with each stride, so I scrunched the pocket in my hand as I ran. I'd walked this way many times before, why tonight? I had never been a track star and was still getting my stamina back after the hospital, so it occurred to me that trying to outrun them might not be the best strategy. My chest was starting to hurt, and the mere act of running was making me feel even more scatter-brained and scared.

I glanced back over my shoulder. _Oh shit, oh crap! _They were closing the gap but still half a block behind. All I could hear was the sound of my own labored breathing, coming harder with every second and the pounding of my shoes on the pavement. _Please, Jesus, get me out of this._

I took a right at the next corner; I didn't even know what street it was. _Oh, thank you, Jesus. _There was a store with the lights on. I ran across the street to the lighted shop windows and yanked on the shop door, disbelieving when the door didn't budge. _No! No! Please, Mother of Christ, it has to be open!_ I pounded on the door with the flat of my hands, trying to raise some kind of attention, but no one appeared from the back. Panting with exertion, I shivered as I realized the store was closed. The lights were just security.

I turned back to see the three of them spread out along the street, slowly walking towards me. They were all young men, looking as focused and dangerous as lions stalking a gazelle. The street around us seemed buttoned up tight, all the doors and windows dark and foreboding. There were a few lights in the upper stories; attracting attention would be my next gambit.

I untied my apron and held it out, trying to seem confident and unafraid. "Here's the money. You can have it." I swung the apron by its ties and tossed it gently so it landed twenty feet away, at the feet of the man in the center. He was taller than the others and more heavily built, dressed in low slung jeans and a beater. In the reflected lights of the store behind my back, I could see he had an intricate tattoo that reached up from below the collar of his shirt to flow across his neck and onto the right side of his face. He crouched down and felt around into the pocket of the apron. He pulled out the thick wad of bills; I hoped it looked impressive, but I knew it was almost all one-dollar bills.

He thumbed idly through the bills, still crouching, while his cohorts looked on with mild curiosity to see what they had reaped. I took a moment and fixed their faces in my mind, so I could identify them to the police later. There was tattoo-ed guy, who seemed satisfied with the wad of bills. To the right was a younger man with a shaved head, looking pasty against the darkness of his black tee shirt. On the left was the oldest, his black, shiny hair slicked straight back off his creased forehead.

The center man straightened up and thrust my tips into his pocket. "Well, it's a start," he said, revealing a smile with a several gaps as he took a step towards me.

I let out the loudest, blood-curdling scream I could manage and broke out into a run from my narrow sanctuary of light. Fleeing down the sidewalk, I yelled as loud as I could manage, desperately hoping to attract attention from the lighted windows of the higher floors of the buildings on the street. "Help! Help!"

I had made half a dozen strides when I was slammed from behind and flung hard onto the pavement of the sidewalk. It knocked the air from my lungs, and I struggled to take a breath while my legs were imprisoned beneath the heavy weight of my attacker. The sidewalk was gritty and gravelly beneath my face, and my hands started to sting with the scrapes I had suffered using them to break my fall.

The weight on my legs let up, but I stayed down, staring at the dark pavement beneath my nose while I fought for breath. _Jesus, help me. Mary, help me._ Gasping for air, I heard them make a few remarks between themselves.

I was grabbed roughly by both of my arms and dragged along the ground, my knees and toes scraping along the pavement. I tried to get my feet underneath me but stumbled again, tearing up my knees and making shreds of my stockings. As I was pulled along the sidewalk, I really began to fear for my life.

My father was a police chief and he had always drilled certain safety tips into me. Run first, ask questions later. If you can't run, scream. Make noise, attract attention. And finally, don't go if they try to take you anywhere. It's better to fight where you are than be taken to an unknown location.

I finally got a full breath into my lungs and threw my legs out in front of me. Tattoo-ed man was leading us down the street while Baldy and Greasy were gripping my arms painfully. I tried to twist my arms out of their grip, but it was useless. I started to scream when tattoo-ed man whipped around and punched me viciously in the stomach. Sagging between the arms of my captors, I was thrown into spasms of nausea by the punch and by my own growing terror.

They dragged me into an alley between two buildings and let me sag onto the ground that was littered with paper, glass bits and sticky residue. I caught myself with my hands, gasping for breath, unsure if it was fear or the abdominal punch that was making it so hard to breathe. I was yanked backwards by my arm again, feeling pain shoot through my shoulder as it was twisted forcefully. I screamed again and this time was laid on my back. Baldy and Greasy had me by the arms, and they kneeled on my forearms, trapping and nearly crushing them. I groaned with the pain. Above me, tattoo-ed man stood, roughly nudging my knees with his foot, separating my legs.

I had lost the ability to think or even pray coherently. I closed my eyes and just started repeating to myself, _Hail Mary, full of grace, Hail Mary, full of grace, Hail Mary, full of grace._

Tattoo-ed man knelt between my legs, and while I couldn't even make out the words as my attackers murmured and laughed among themselves, I distinctly heard the snick of a switchblade knife opening. I felt a breeze as my uniform was parted, and the shreds of my stockings torn from me. It was when I felt the cold blade of the knife against my hipbone as he cut through my cotton underwear, that I jumped and cried out again. I felt a line of fire trace along my side, immediately followed by a trickle of warmth; I had been cut. Somebody slapped my face and my head whipped to the side. "I said, be quiet, bitch!"

_Hail Mary, full of grace, Hail Mary, full of grace. _Suddenly, there was a strange gargling sound above me, and a puff of air as if something very fast had passed by. The pressure from my arms was released instantaneously, and I laid there, sure something even more terrible was about to happen. What caused my eyes to fly open was the low snarling and growling, like I'd only heard in the lions' house at the zoo once when Renee had taken me.

Crouched against the wall, an attacker held in each of his hands, was Edward. He held them face down on the ground by the scruff of their necks, and I saw them start to struggle feebly against what must have been an iron grip because they were trapped as surely as flies in amber. It was Edward's face that caused me to gasp, this time in surprise.

His eyes were huge and dark, and his eyebrows were drawn fiercely together. He looked as savage and brutal as the blade of a hatchet, and his eyes glittered malevolently. His skin was ghostly pale, drawn tight and pinched over his prominent cheekbones. I couldn't imagine a fiercer, more ferocious avenging angel.

He looked at me and hoarsely whispered, "Run, Isabella, run."

I was paralyzed by the sudden turn of events and his unexpected presence here, but mostly by the pain, anger and savagery on his face.

He stared at me a moment longer. "Run!" he roared, making me jump.

I bolted to my feet, grabbing the scraps of my clothing around me, and took off, fleeing for the sanctuary of my home.

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A/N Sorry for the cliffie! Update very soon, I promise! Reviews are wonderful.


	9. Chapter 9 May God Have Mercy

The inspiration for this chapter was Gimme Shelter by the Rolling Stones.

Thanks are due to my betas hellacullen and Poo235. I'd also like to give a shout out to those wonderful souls who have been reccing my story out-your support means so much!

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**Edward **

It was a few hours before sunrise when I arrived in Seattle, feeling dark and dangerous. The news from Prince George weighed on me, making my emotions alternate between disgust and despair for the condition of the human race.

I stashed the bike behind a fence in the back yard of Isabella's apartment. She wasn't home, so I let myself in through one of the screened windows and paced her apartment. Her small, yet gallant cat hissed at me before making a break for safety under the bed. Her space was modest, just a living room, a galley kitchen and one bedroom. The Bible held a prominent place on her nightstand, and I checked the titles of the other books she was reading. A biography of Gandhi, inspirational quotes, and Austen painted a picture of a romantic and spiritual seeker. I snorted when I came across the book of Scott Adams cartoons.

I looked through the cabinets and drawers, trying to get a handle on what kind of person she was. If only I could read her, it would make things immeasurably easier. I would know what to say and be able to get a true reaction to it, not just the facade that people called communication.

Unable to help myself, I fingered through her lingerie drawer, trying not to feel like the pervert she was making me become. The delicate, lacy scraps of fabric were so different from the corsets of my youth or even the sturdy cotton and nylon items I remembered Tanya wearing. I sat on her bed while the fragrance rolled off it in waves, intoxicating in its strength and richness. I grabbed her pillow and brought it to my nose, imagining her head and hair there, making me feel weak with desire.

_Oh, this is wrong._ I knew it was wrong as I was doing it, but I was helpless against the surges of need that were pounding relentlessly against me. A half hour passed this way, until I found myself pacing the length of the apartment, unable to think of anything but where she was or who she was with. A feeling of deep uneasiness was settling on me, and the craving to see her and assure myself of her safety became unbearable.

I would go find her. Maybe she was working—I remembered the nametag. On her dresser were pay stubs with the address of Ray's Diner. I slipped out the window and, after replacing the screen, started running through the dark streets.

I opened my mind as I ran and a flood of images from the surrounding buildings came pouring through it. _…fell asleep again with the TV on…hate night shift work…just give me the damn shit… another nightmare. Can I sleep with you?...ah, come on, come on, do it!...gonna teach this bitch a thing or two…_

The last one brought me up short. Through the eyes of a mind filled with cruelty and lust, I saw Isabella's terrified face, her eyes scrunched shut. The floor dropped out of my world; suddenly I was terrified. _NO!_ _No harm to Isabella!_ I started zigzagging through the streets, invisibly fast, trying to get a triangulation on where this was occurring. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably mere seconds, I flew at an impossible rate down the street and to the dark alley where I saw three figures crouching above a prone fourth one. Like buzzards starting to pick at a corpse, they were hunched over her.

Isabella was pinned down and laid out before them like a buffet. Something dark and furious grabbed me, and I lost all rational thought in my anger and rage. Through it all, weaving its scent like a song, was the fragrant perfume of Isabella's spilled blood, calling to the bloodlust like a siren. The whole world turned red and black, and I felt a roar as deep and primordial as a jungle rip from me.

I flew at the first who was reared above her and between her knees. As I grabbed him by the throat to pull him off her, I felt the bones in his neck crush under my hand, and his head popped off like the head of a dandelion. I threw the headless corpse deeper into the alley as the head rolled away. The thick, metallic smell of blood filled my nose and mouth, creating an aromatic cloud flooded with the fragrance of death that I was ready to revel in. The bloodlust, which had been lying dormant, burst from its cage inside me and triumphantly demanded blood and death.

Before the remaining two vultures had time to react, I pulled them off her and knocked them face down to the ground. They would pay, oh, they would pay. My fury knew no bounds, and I was trembling with a passion for vengeance. Seeing no movement from Isabella, I froze. I had pulled the miscreants from her, but she lay there unmoving, her lips whispering a prayer over and over while her eyes remained squeezed tightly together. They had parted her uniform, and she lay there exposed to the eyes of these vermin. For that alone, they would die.

But she had to leave. She shouldn't see the justice that was about to happen in all its ugly glory. Also, I feared for her, if she should be too near while the feeding was taking place. Her scent was too deliriously beckoning and I didn't want that nearby while I became the mindless bringer of death that was a vampire feeding.

My throat was parched with the desire for blood, but hoarsely, I whispered to her to leave. She opened her eyes and saw me pinning the two attackers to the ground. She stared at me, and I saw her mouth my name. I felt a sudden pang of embarrassment and shame that she was seeing me in the midst of this violence. This was when I was sure I looked most inhuman, most monstrous. I wanted to pick her up gently and explain to her this was just an aberration, that this wasn't who I was.

But it was. I was a vampire at the kill.

I took in the scrapes on her hands and knees, but it was the long, shallow slice on her left hipbone from which her dark, fragrant blood was dripping. The trickle of color down her pale flesh was mesmerizing and richer than rubies in its hue. Under the pale, delicate skin of her arms were the blooms of bruises yet to show. There were no words to describe my rage that these vermin had dared to lay their hands on her. The dark, greasy criminal under my left hand started to struggle, and the bloodlust started to overwhelm me. In the scented fog of the perfume of spilled blood, my anger and fury were feeding the bloodlust and I knew I was powerless to stop myself. Moreover, I didn't want to stop; I wanted to deliver justice badly. I could feel my hand start to shift position on the neck of the criminal who would be my first feeding. I would have begged Isabella to leave so that she wouldn't witness my shame, but instead I shouted at her to run.

At last, she was released from her paralysis. She jumped to her feet and, clutching the shreds of her clothing around her, vanished around the corner. I listened to her feet pounding the concrete as she ran towards her home before turning to the men under my hands.

I rose to a standing position, bringing the dark one up with me while I placed a foot on the other one's neck so that he would remain in place until I could attend to him. The dark one, feeling my strength, went limp with terror and began to curse me and pray in Spanish. I let him look into my eyes, which I knew were black and fierce with hunger.

Trembling, he looked at me and whispered, "¿Que es usted?"

I smiled and whispered back, "El diablo. ¿Como se llama?"

He looked at me, paralyzed with fear. I shook him and demanded louder, "What is your name?"

"Jesus Perron," he whispered.

"And the ones with you?"

"Roland Deschain and Darryl Hunnings."

"May God have mercy on your soul," I whispered to him, "for I most certainly will not."

His flesh was soft under my teeth and the first mouthful of blood was so sweet and thick, it swirled around my mouth in a paroxysm of taste and richness. Closing my eyes, I pulled the salty, tangy nectar from him. Never had I been so enraged at a kill. With one long draught, I heard his heart thud to a stop as its purpose for beating disappeared into me. The satisfaction of ending his life was so great; I raised my face to the dark sky and laughed.

I threw the empty corpse to the ground and staggered back a step, feeling the new blood course through me. It was a rush of pleasure, ecstasy and fulfillment more intense than any I had ever felt. Peripherally, I saw Roland trying to crawl away, but with an exalted roar, I grabbed him and inadvertently crushed his shoulder and collarbone while bringing him to me. Again, there was the sweet crunch as I broke past the skin and into the soft flesh of the neck where the jugular nested. I took this one slower, more deliberately, letting the blood drain into me, until I felt the minor gush into my mouth with each fading heartbeat. Finally, I had taken his life within me, and I threw this corpse on top of the first. I had no other thought than the transcendence of a human meal. The rapture burned within me and started to spread to my extremities until I was wholly engulfed by the spinning, tumbling euphoria. The animal within me roared in pleasure, and I dropped to my knees, overcome by the ravishing delirium.

I knelt there for a moment, feeling the new blood course within me. On the ground I saw a shred of nylon stocking, and my head snapped up. _Isabella! Had she made it home safely? Was she alright? _I took a few steps toward her home before I looked back into the alley where the two bloodless corpses lay, accompanied by the headless one. The edict against leaving evidence pounded against the need to see to Isabella's safety. I compromised by grabbing the two ex-sanguinated corpses under my arms and bringing them with me. I would pass by Isabella's on my way to the coast where I could dispose of the corpses in the Sound. This was a definite advantage to Seattle, being surrounded as it was by water. A corpse, having spent any time in the water, would lose any evidence of blood-draining.

I easily followed Isabella's scent home, enriched as it was by her still bleeding wound. Checking through the window, I saw her moving around inside and, satisfied that she would be safe for a while longer, I continued on my disposal mission. I got to the docks and, finding some heavy chain, wrapped the bodies tightly in it. Dropping my clothes at the shore, I waded into the dark, polluted waters. I walked along the bottom, the dead bodies trailing along behind me, until I found a tangle of debris that I could tuck the bodies into.

I returned to shore, dressed and flew back to Isabella's home. I saw the pile of ripped clothes on her floor and heard the shower running, so I entered through the window I had now designated as my doorway and waited for her. Pacing the room, I caught sight of myself in the dresser mirror. _My eyes! _They burned as redly as flames; they would be terrifying to her. Flying around the apartment, I turned off all the lights but one in the entranceway. The shadows would have to be enough to hide my eyes. I waited in a dark corner of the bedroom for her to come out.

Finally, the sound of running water stopped. A few minutes later, Isabella came out, wrapped in a towel. By the light leaking from the bathroom, she made her way over to the closet, passing me by mere feet but not acknowledging my presence. She grabbed a garment from the closet and turned around. I took a step forward and said her name.

Her scream reverberated through the apartment like the siren of a fire alarm.

Holding my hands out in front of me and trying to appear harmless, I said, "Isabella, it's me. Edward." My heart dropped into my feet. What was it she saw when she looked at me?

"Edward..." she whispered. Then she flew towards me and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her head with its damp hair against my chest.

I was stunned into immobility. The warmth radiating from her made my chest burn and her arms around me awakened emotions in me that I had not felt, well ever, in this vampire life. But then her smell wafted up to me, not only her natural perfume, but the smell of the wound on her hip. The bloodlust, which had so recently been stuffed back into its cage, rattled the bars, willing me to feed again on this most delectable tidbit. I saw the pulse point on her throat throb as she stood with her arms wrapped around her potential executioner. Shivering with desire, I fought the urge to bend my head and drink from the font that seemed offered up to me.

"Why, you're trembling," she murmured softly. "Please, don't be scared."

I almost laughed aloud at this. She had her arms around a murderer of hundreds and hundreds, and yet this weak, fragile girl was admonishing me to not be afraid. I was struggling with this when the phone rang. She reluctantly broke away, staring at me and gesturing with her hand that I was to stay while she walked over to the phone by her bed.

"Hello?" she asked. Watching me by the faint light leaking from the bathroom, she talked with the person on the line. "No, I am fine. I was just startled ...It was a spider. No, no, everything is fine. I am sorry I woke you up...Alright then. Good night."

She set the phone back in its cradle and stepped forward. "You saved me. Thank you."

I was at a loss for words. I had no idea how to begin to court this woman, so I said the only thing that came to mind. "You're welcome."

Her warm umber eyes looked at me, as trusting as a puppy. "You are my guardian angel…"

I shook my head. "Oh no, Isabella. If only that were true. I am no angel."

I didn't know if she heard me because she repeated herself while her eyes started to fill up with tears. "You saved me..."

She started to cry, and when she took a step toward me, pulling her into my arms seemed like the most natural thing to do. "Oh, I was so scared," she wailed. "I tried to run, then I tried to scream, but they just kept coming. I prayed and prayed and you came." That was as much as I got before she slipped into total incoherence, her small frame wracked with the intensity of her sobbing.

I held her lightly in my arms, drinking in her scent and the way she moved against me. I was ashamed by the way the small movements of her body pressed against mine were making me feel, and the desire to bend her head back to kiss her fought with the desire to bend her head back and drink. Instead, I tried to calm her and soothe her, stroking her hair and murmuring, "It's okay. You're safe now. They're gone."

After a few moments, she began to calm and the sobbing turned to sniffling. In my arms, she raised her face to mine, her eyes red-rimmed and teary, and her nose blotchy from crying. She looked at my lips, and I saw her tongue touch her bottom lip briefly. Then she looked into my eyes, her own half-lidded while her breath caught in her throat.

I realized she was looking into my eyes, which were red with the blood of my victims. Could she see their hue in this light? I dropped my arms and stepped away from her. She was startled by the suddenness of my movement, and I saw embarrassment cross her face. Why would she be embarrassed? The morass of silence coming from her head was suddenly more than frustrating-it was infuriating.

I smelled as well as saw the dark trickle down her left leg under the short hem of the towel. The wound on her hip was continuing to seep blood.

"You're still bleeding," I whispered. "Let me help with that."

She looked trustingly at me while I gently pushed her shoulders back against the wall. I felt her become still with alarm as I slowly knelt in front of her. Pushing the towel out of the way, I saw her naked loins before me. Above the gentle swell of her sex, there was a long horizontal scar, and I denied the urge to touch it tenderly with my fingertips. Instead, holding the towel up, I grabbed her waist with my hands to keep her still. The fresh cut on her hip was almost six inches long but was deep only where the skin rose over the curve of her delicate pelvic bone. Pulling her toward me and starting at the midpoint of her thigh, where the ooze of blood had reached, I licked upwards in one long stroke, up to the seeping cut on her hip. Her skin was like warm glass, and my tongue slid easily up her leg, chasing the trickle of dark liquid.

I heard her gasp above me at my touch, and she moaned, low and throaty, as my tongue traveled up her sweet-tasting flesh. The sound of that moan reached deep inside me and stirred something that had been sleeping a long time. It leaped forward ferociously, fed by the knowledge I could create such a reaction in her. The sudden desire to pull her to my lap to caress all of her filled me, but savagely I pushed it down. I finished my clean up: two quick laps on either side of the cut to rid her of blood smeared by the towel.

It was only the sloshing of the blood of the two victims inside me that was allowing me this kind of control. As good as her blood smelled above the scent of others, the taste was so much more lush and complex. It was intoxicating, it was paradisiacal, and the small taste of it set my mouth and my throat alight with small explosions of pleasure. I had to close my eyes and let the taste fade from my mouth before I could proceed.

Very lightly, I licked my lips to glaze them with the venom that was flooding my mouth and then pressed my venom-tinged flesh against the cut. The small amount of venom would seal the wound and stop the bleeding, but it wasn't enough to endanger her health in any way. I pulled back to examine my work and saw the wound pull itself together. But there was another smell that was calling me, something as warm and rich as blood, but different. At the apex of her legs, which she clenched tightly together, was her pubis, gently shadowed with its covering of silky hair. I stared at it as I fought the urge to lean forward and kiss it as well.

"...Edward?" Isabella was saying, concern and fear in her voice as I came back to awareness. "Edward!"

My eyes rose to her face and I saw that she was overcome with modesty and embarrassment. I realized then I had totally exposed her sex and the girl was almost naked before me. I let the towel drop down and cover her again as I slowly rose to my feet. Some part of me wanted to stay on my knees and worship what was beneath that towel for the next month or year. I wanted to pull that towel away and bury myself deep within her.

Isabella was blushing furiously and I realized I had crossed a line of propriety and social convention at some point. Perhaps I had done enough damage for one night, and I felt my control teetering on the edge. Outside, I could see the minimal lighting of the sky as dawn prepared to make its entrance. It would be best if I left. I looked down at her face, which was turned to one side. In her mortification, the poor girl couldn't look me in the eyes. "I should go now," I murmured.

I stepped away, out of the bedroom and to the entranceway, wondering if she could ever accept me now. I heard her follow me as I walked to the door.

"Edward," she called softly. "You'll come again?"

I reached for the doorknob and paused, not turning towards her. I took a breath, knowing she could slay me with a word. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," she confirmed and my heart soared. "I'd like that very much."

Over my shoulder, keeping my back turned so she wouldn't see my eyes, I answered, my voice hoarse with pent up emotion. "Look for me after dusk."

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A/N Reviews mean so much, please leave one.


	10. Chapter 10 Choices

This story has been recc'd by the Twilight Enablers. Check them out http:// community . livejournal . com / twilightenabler/

**Edward**

The ride from Seattle back to Forks was an emotional roller coaster for me. Isabella had asked if I would come back. She wanted to see me again. With a single word, she had broken into my dark world like the dawn that shattered the somber night. I tried to hold onto the hope and elation in that thought, trying to shut out the doubts that nipped at my heels like wolves. Did she have any idea of my true nature? What was it she saw when she looked at me?

She wanted to see me again. No matter how fiercely the doubts attacked, that thought would crop up again and I'd feel the thrill in the pit of my stomach. It was wonderful, and I was literally full of wonder that this could have happened. She wanted to see me again.

But first, I had to know if I was still welcome in the Cullen household. I wouldn't have lied to them anyway, but my red eyes would certainly tell the story for me. The bike surged forward as I inadvertently hit the throttle, my anger flaring at the image of those killers crouched over Isabella's body. Never had I been so enraged at a kill, and never had it been so satisfying. All the times I had killed in the name of justice paled beside the kills I had made in defense of someone I already considered mine: Isabella Swan. I tried to find some remorse in me, but for the life of me, I couldn't. They were filth and deserved to die.

What gnawed at me was the depressing realization that I had let Carlisle down, and for that I was truly ashamed. It seemed no matter how I tried, I couldn't live up to his standards or expectations. While he and the rest of the family had found a way to hold onto their humanity and to find lives filled with love, I was constantly tripped up by my own nature. I was the monster, the black sheep, the poor trailer park relation that no one wanted to admit to having. As I flew through the curves of Route 101, watching the night lighten into day, I knew my heart was as black as any of those who'd died at my hands. I'd enjoyed killing tonight, and that was the first time I admitted that to myself.

But all the regret and remorse I felt about the actions of the last few hours paled in comparison to one simple fact: Isabella wanted to see me again.

Suddenly, doubt laid its icy fingers on me. What would I say to her? My memories of human courting rituals had almost completely faded, and I had the distinct impression that male/female relationship dynamics had changed radically in the last fifty years or so. How could I impress her? Make her like me?

My body reacted intensely to the memory of how her arms had felt around me, how she had looked at me while in my arms, and the image of the pale tender flesh underneath her towel. I wanted to examine, caress and worship every inch of flesh, every crevasse, every bend or curve. I wanted that almost as much as I wanted to crawl inside her head and exhume and inspect every thought she'd ever had. She was a mystery to me.

On a more primordial level, I was aware that my mouth and throat tingled with the memory of the taste of her blood. It was indeed the rapture that her scent had promised; it was only the satiation from the previous feeding that had allowed me to walk away from it. I couldn't decide which desire was stronger, but I knew I had to have this woman, that I would have this woman. She was destined for me; of that I had no doubt. I no longer had a choice; I was being driven by needs and desires I couldn't even understand.

Oh, how I hated this. I hated feeling not in control, most especially not in control of myself. I thought I had inured myself to emotion, and now I found myself running riot with it. Shame and guilt I knew, they had been my constant companions for some time now. But hope, wonder and passion were all awakening in me and the process was almost painful. I felt full with crazy impulses and unnamed desires; I was losing my ability to think straight. And it was because a single, insignificant, human girl had asked if she would see me again.

Something darker was also rising in me. Fear. I hadn't felt fear in a long, long while and I was unpracticed at dealing with it. I had never had much to lose, but tonight something extremely precious had almost slipped through my hands. When I saw Isabella's terrified face through the eyes of her attacker, I realized I now had a soft vulnerable underbelly. Losing Isabella would destroy me more surely, more fundamentally than any funeral pyre ever could. Fear for her would drive me in a way no other emotion could. It was fear of losing her that would drive me to extremes.

The garage door was open when I arrived home, and I pulled my bike into the dark space. I had set the kickstand and was standing in place, listening for Carlisle, when Alice stepped through the door. "Hello, Edward."

"Hello," I greeted her solemnly. I was glad to see her, and my request took shape in my mind as I saw her. "Alice, I have occasion to ask a favor from you."

She nodded sympathetically. "I know. I'll keep watch on her, Edward, but sometimes things change too rapidly to make accurate forecasts. I can't just spin a dial and watch the future. It works in ways I can't predict."

Alice often downplayed her own abilities. I imagined that expectations of her were often demanding. I knew the separateness that came from having an ability, including its limitations, that others didn't understand. "I know. Just do what you can, please?"

"You need to start carrying one of these so I can let you know of rapid developments." She pressed something small and silver into my hand.

I turned the small metal rectangle over. "You're giving me a cell phone?"

"It has all our numbers in it," she said, pointing at the screen. "I didn't think you had one."

"Well, no," I admitted. I looked into her eyes and shrugged. "There was never someone to call."

"Oh, Edward," she whispered, and she stepped up to me, wrapping her arms around my torso. Her head didn't rise above my chest. "Please promise me you won't ever leave us like that again. You don't know how we have missed you."

I let her hug me without returning it. "Look at me, Alice. Look at my eyes."

She pulled away enough to see my face.

I held her shoulders. "Is this really what you want in your midst? Violence, brutality? Death follows me like a shadow. I am doomed to live with it."

"You're wrong, you know." She raised her chin obstinately. "Things will change for you."

"Oh, sweet Alice." I relented and pulled her into my arms, wrapping them around her. "How can you be such an optimist?"

She hugged me back. "Because I can see the good that's coming."

She stepped back from me with an odd expression on her face, so I checked her thoughts. The salty, dirty smell from my walk in the water and the thick odor of blood clung to my skin. It wasn't very thoughtful of me to bring the scent of human blood into a houseful of abstainers. "Perhaps I should shower," I said.

"A very good idea," Alice agreed. "I've laid some clothes out for you. They'll be perfect." I followed her as she headed out of the garage into the main house." And take a blanket with you tonight," she added over her shoulder.

I checked her mind, curious as to her suggestion, but she knew I was coming and had switched to her mind tricks designed to keep me out. This time it was a recitation of the 23rd Psalm in French. I did swiftly catch an image of a dark sky filled with stars.

We walked into the house, and at the foot of the staircase, she turned back to me. "Carlisle will be home after four tonight."

"Thank you."

Jasper appeared beside her, wondering where the scent of blood had come from. He saw my red eyes, but said nothing. Conflict tore through him, and he struggled with memories of feeding.

"I apologize," I said, gesturing to myself. "I don't mean to make your own struggle harder."

He shook his head. "Don't worry. It's a battle we each wage alone."

I headed upstairs while behind me I heard Alice lead Jasper away. _Whew, it's like a slaughterhouse at low tide. _

Jasper's thoughts were more nostalgic. _I have indeed missed that._

I took great care in the shower to remove any traces of the night's activities from my skin. My leathers would have to be cleaned. Perhaps it was just as well. What was it Tanya had said? _Biker-boy-bound-for-hell._ Perhaps an image upgrade was in order.

Alice had laid out jeans and a tan pullover on the sofa. I pulled them on, marveling at the softness of the sweater; the fabrics available these days were so different from the scratchy cottons and wools of my youth.

I checked the mirror and was surprised by what I saw. If you could avoid the red eyes, I looked surprisingly human. Contacts would help with that. The feeding had heightened my color, and the clothes Alice had gotten for me fit well. My hair was its usual untamable mess; however, it seemed to be fashionable now to have hair that looked as if it had never met a comb.

I passed down the hall and saw the door to Esme's workroom was open. She sat over her drawing board, her caramel-colored hair drawn up behind her, her face peaceful and intent as she moved her pencil around the board.

She sat back and glanced at me. "Hello," she said with a smile.

"Esme," I said, nodding in greeting. I took a step into the room. "What are you working on?"

"Some preliminary sketches for a house in New Hampshire. It's a lovely spot overlooking the White Mountains. I thought I would go Prairie style with this one."

I stepped up to the board and looked at the drawings. The house had low hip roofs and long horizontal windows, with a wide pergola off to one side. It sat nestled among tall pines on a mountainside.

"It looks terrific. What is this here?" I asked, pointing to a structure separate from the main building.

"That is going to be an outdoor hot tub. See this retractable roof? You can roll it back and see the stars while you soak." She looked up at me and smiled. She noticed the color of my eyes but said nothing. "How was Tanya?"

"Good; the same. I think Alaska suits her."

She picked up her pencil and sketched in another tree.

"Don't you want to ask me about this?" I said, indicating my eyes with my hand.

Without moving her eyes from her work, she said, "Only if you want to tell me."

I walked over to the windows that overlooked the front lawn of the house. "I let my anger get the best of me. There were some thugs in full attack mode, and well…I couldn't stop myself."

I turned around to her. "That's not true. I didn't _want_ to stop," I clarified.

She watched me, her face solemn. I felt her work hard trying not to recoil from the thought of such violence.

"They were threatening something very precious to me."

She tilted her head, assessing me. "That's unlike you to let your emotions rule your head."

"I know. I don't know what is happening to me." I had walked through my life the past forty years, feeling more detached and numb with each year. The killing had become less and less abhorrent to me while the crimes of my victims seemed more routine. Another murder, another rape, another kidnapping, another death.

But what had happened in Detroit with the children had been the start of some subtle yet seismic change in me. It had awakened me to the horror I had immersed myself in, and I didn't want to go back there. Yet I had killed again, swiftly and without remorse, and in full murderous passion.

Feelings were rising in me, and the anger was just a part of it. Was being out of control and at the mercy of my emotions the price I had to pay for having them? Could I lose the rage and fury and keep the good parts of these newfound feelings? Like the way I felt when Isabella said my name.

Esme brought me back from my introspection. "Alice says that you've found your singer."

The view out the window was lovely from this vantage point. The sun was peeking in and out of clouds, creating shadows that raced across the lawn like invisible giants. Across the field, a hawk collided with a pigeon in mid-air before grasping it in its talons, sending a shower of feathers to the ground. Prey and predator; it was all around us.

I shook my head. "I don't really know what that means. If it means that I can't stop thinking about her, that she haunts me, that it feels like wasted time when I'm not with her, then yes."

She rose from her stool and came up behind me. "Edward, it sounds like you're falling in love," she said softly.

"Then why is it so painful?"

"Well, I think you are thawing out. You've lived a life where being cold and impartial was important to the work you were doing. But maybe there's a new direction for you now. Perhaps that's why she has come into your life now, to help you find that new way."

I turned around to look into Esme's eyes. Their golden lights suited her, and affection and kindness shone from them. Esme was a woman of extraordinary grace; Carlisle had certainly chosen well, with her at least. "But what if I kill her? Do you have any idea how incredible she smells?"

"The only way to stop wanting to kill her is to want her alive even more. Let yourself love her, Edward." She placed a hand on my chest. "Open up your heart."

I put my hand on top of hers and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "It is no wonder Carlisle chose you."

She smiled, a strange light in her eyes. "He chose you as well, don't forget that." She climbed back onto her stool at the drawing board as I drifted from the room.

I wandered downstairs and over to the grand piano. It was set by a bank of windows that overlooked the fields in the back of the house. The windows had been cranked open, and the breeze gently ruffled the pages of the book set in the music stand. I plunked a few keys; it was in tune, and the timbre was full and rich.

I sat down and let my hands rest on the ivories. It'd been a long time since I had been in front of a piano. I started with Beethoven's sonatas, letting the sad, extraordinary music flow from me, then traveled through the lyricism of Schubert and into the cerebral atmospheres of Mozart. I trotted through some ragtime as I heard the other family members around me, pursuing their own interests, and I had started tinkering with something original when I heard Carlisle's car pull into the garage.

He came up behind me. "That's quite beautiful. Who is it?"

"It's just something I've started to play with," I said, bringing the stanza to a close and letting the final dissonant chord ring out and fade.

"You don't know how wonderful it is to see you at the piano."

I turned to face him so he could see my eyes. "I need to talk with you."

He was unsurprised by my appearance. Esme had phoned him earlier, I heard in his thoughts. "Will you walk with me?" he asked.

"Of course," I nodded, rising from the piano bench and following him outdoors. I was glad to have some privacy with him, and together we started down the forest's southern paths.

We'd been walking for a while when I spoke. "I would like to tell you what happened."

"If you wish to, Edward. I'm not your judge."

I told him of the attack on Isabella and my satisfaction at ending the vermin who had dared touch her. We came to a rocky stream bank and took seats on a large granite slab overlooking a small waterfall that dropped into a pool a few feet below.

The trees across the stream rustled in the breeze, dappling the river. "I'm sorry, Carlisle, I know you had hoped for better from me."

"I know you're trying to change, which is never easy. I still have hopes that you can escape the savagery that is our baser nature. But it won't come easily."

"I didn't know I was capable of such ferocity," I said, shaking my head. "Not that there hadn't been violence like that before, but this time was different. I enjoyed it, Carlisle. I enjoyed it, and if it happened again, I would do the same."

Carlisle nodded, trying to understand. "Well, you were protecting something dear to you." Underneath his calm, however, I felt his very real concern that I was skirting a dangerous line between civility and animalism. However, I could not be his only concern.

I waited, knowing there was more he needed to say.

"But Edward, we have become a part of this community here in Forks. I've treated their sick, helped their babies be born, eased the passage of their dying. If I felt there was a danger to anyone in Forks, I would have to act."

"I know that."

"Should there be another slip, no matter how justified, or whomever the persons involved, I would have to ask you to leave us for a while."

I nodded, swearing determinedly to myself that I would never give him cause to. I knew how deeply it would cut him to have to ask me such a thing, and I vowed never to give him a reason.

"I understand, Carlisle. I would never want to endanger your position in the community."

He sighed. "It's not just my position in the community or even our position in the community. I've gained the trust of these people, and I can't betray the trust I've been given by bringing death in their midst."

He reached out and put an arm around my shoulders. "You've been a son to me, Edward. I love you, more than you realize. It would only be until we were all more assured of your control."

"Yes, of course." I felt almost sick to my stomach. Control was absolutely what was giving me more problems now than any time in my life. "I have something else to ask you."

He looked curiously at me.

"If I brought Isabella to you, would you turn her? I wouldn't ask, but I would never be able to do it myself."

His eyes opened in alarm. "Oh, Edward, that is so much to ask." His thoughts fell back to Rosalie. Out of all of us he had made, he knew Rosalie bore the vampire life with the least grace. Her regret at having her human life snatched from her weighed on him every day. Of course, it was her human death that had been taken from her, but trust Rosalie not to focus on that.

He rose and stood, staring at the water as it rushed by us. "Edward, if she meant that much to you, yes, I would do it. But she would have to know our exact nature and understand it fully. I will never again turn someone without their full knowledge and consent beforehand." He shook his head. "It's been a hard lesson, but one I've learned." In his mind, he still felt the weight of having turned the four of us. He considered it the most selfish thing he'd ever done.

I stared at the ground, wondering how I would be able to tell the truth to Isabella. Granted, she'd felt the supernatural in me, but she thought I was an angel. How I dreaded disabusing her of that notion, letting her know just how wrong she had been. Would she be able to forgive me for not being the creature of her dreams?

Carlisle turned to me. "You have a very fine line to walk, Edward. How will she ever get to know you unless she knows all about you? But, if you tell her what you are, be sure she'll accept you because the knowledge is death to humans. The Volturi hold this edict highest above all others."

He crouched in front of me, intently studying my face. "Once she knows of our existence, she either becomes one of us or dies. Be sure of her choice when you reveal our secret."

"I will," I promised, sounding more confident than I felt.

He sat beside me again. "We'd have to move from Forks for such a thing to happen. It's clearly against our treaty with the Quileute."

"Well, she lives in Seattle. That is outside of the treaty area, correct?"

"Yes, but she's from Forks, so that complicates things."

I was stunned. "She's from Forks?"

"She's the police chief's daughter. She went to school with Alice and Jasper until medical complications kept her out of school."

"She knows our family?"

"Well, I treated her a few times in the emergency room. In fact, I thought she was dating one of the Quileutes for a while."

I didn't like the thought of her dating someone else at all. I felt my face pull into a scowl, and I fought the urge to growl.

"What I do think you must consider is the girl's safety."

My head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Last night you showed remarkable control but you were also fully satiated. What will you do when your eyes are no longer red?"

I sat stunned, realizing the truth of what he said.

Carlisle was studying my face, his brows furrowed in concern. "She's your singer, Edward. Do you have any idea of the lure that will hold for you when you are truly thirsty?"

I dug my hands into the rock I sat on, remembering how exquisitely she smelled and tasted.

"I've always wanted love for you, for you to find someone to walk the world with. But I am worried because she's human, and you have so little practice abstaining."

"Esme said that the only way to stop wanting to kill her is to want her alive even more."

"Well, that certainly sounds like Esme," he said, smiling.

I raised my eyes to his face. "I can't stop thinking about Isabella. She's haunting me. It's not very…comfortable."

"Ha!" Carlisle barked a laugh. "Now that sounds like love."

We returned to the house after a while, and I headed for the motorcycle to begin the trip back to Seattle. Again, I found myself torn with conflicting emotions. What would I tell Isabella? How would she react? I wished I had the luxury of time in finding a way into Isabella's heart before the thirst overtook me again. There was a clock ticking and it could be measured by the color of my eyes.

I spun the motorcycle in a semi-circle and started down the driveway. The sun was dropping behind the trees, and as I turned onto the highway, I cleared my mind. I pushed aside the thoughts and hopes of the future and began the recitation of my litany and the remembrances of all the lives that were mine to carry.

_Roland Deschain_

_Jesus Perron_

_Darryl Hunnings_

_Robert Neville_

_Michael King_

_Jeffrey Fischer_

_Louis de Pointe du lac_

_Nicole Gray_

_Andrew Bellefleur_

_Erica Gillespie_

_Aubrey Ruthven_

_Robert O'Rourke_

And the litany went on.

**********************

A/N Thanks to my darling betas, hellacullen and Poo235 who hold my hand when the doubts come crashing down. And to everyone who reviews, alerts, leaves comments, PMs me, you guys are freaking great. Thank you, thank you


	11. Chapter 11 Chariot Ride

**A/N I need to thnk everyone for reviews this week because I have not been able to repond to them! I've been dealing with major internet fail the last few days and am posting this chapter from a friend's so that I could get it out. Yes, dusk has arrived.**

**Bella**

I sat on the edge of the sofa, my leg jiggling with nervous energy. I heard a sound outside and jumped to the window, but it was just from across the street. In the deepening evening, I could barely make him out as he set his trashcans out on the curb. The neighborhood was settling in for the night, and the streetlamps were beginning to glimmer one by one. I sat back on the sofa, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in my skirt.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. This was nerve-wracking in the extreme. I had no idea what was going to happen, and already I felt like I was in the middle of a Bible story. I prayed briefly, asking for peace in the face of whatever was coming to claim me and guidance in following God's wishes.

Picking out what to wear for this occasion had been its only particular challenge. I had stocked up on skirts after the hospital because they were easiest on my scar, so I went with one long enough to cover the scrapes on my knees and a gauzy long sleeve shirt to cover the harsh, ugly bruises on my arms.

I had finally risen in the early afternoon after a broken sleep filled with nightmares. I'd been physically sick as the memories of the fear of last night came rushing back to me. When I'd finally pulled myself together, I had spent the rest of the afternoon at my favorite place, praying and letting the peace seep into my soul. Despite the trauma of last night, I had so much to be thankful for, that God had seen fit to save me from the predators and sent Edward to me. I had desperately wanted to talk with Father Brian, but Mrs. Perkins had said he wouldn't be back until the morning.

I was new to my faith, and I had discussed the nature of doubt with Father Bryan. It was a dilemma that all the faithful wrestled with, and I was certainly no exception. As much as I wanted to believe in the miracles of last night, the skeptic in me refused to be hushed. My faith had seemed stronger when the divine had been a bit more removed. My mind was reeling with all that had happened to me, now more so than ever. I wanted the tragedies surrounding me to make sense, and to be relieved of the awesome burden of guilt I was under. Sharing that with God was making my life bearable. But the appearance of an angel baffled and unsettled me in ways I hadn't expected. Especially this angel. Especially the way he made me feel. I had seen nothing in theology to make sense of that.

There was another sound of a car door slamming, and I jumped up again to check the window. Edward had said he'd come after sunset, and I was trying not to get too worked up about it; after all he hadn't said what sunset. But I was as expectant as a kid on Christmas morning, and the tension made me feel like I was about to explode. This time it was the Hansons down the street; Terry, the mom, was yelling at the kids to get their Big Wheels out of the driveway.

I sighed, pulling away from the window, and turned around. Edward was standing in the middle of my living room, and I jumped at his unexpected appearance. "Oh!" I exclaimed, clutching my chest.

He held his hand out like he was trying to calm a horse. "Please, don't be scared." He was dressed in a tan pullover and jeans, looking remarkably human. He stood in my living room, this ethereal, beautific young man, as incongruent as a rose on a city sidewalk. He appeared young, I realized, seemingly at that cusp where a boy has just crossed the threshold of becoming a man. His body was lean and narrow, as young men's bodies are before they thicken with age. But his face is what drew me in, a haunting mixture of old eyes in a young face. At Our Lady of The Waters, there was a crucifix which held a Jesus with that same mixture of wisdom, sadness and pain. Last night I'd seen tenderness on that face, but I had also seen cold rage. I wasn't sure which feeling was more at home there.

I shook my head. "I'm not scared, just startled." That was not entirely true. Suddenly, the room seemed small and airless. Barely contained power seemed to seep from his pores. He moved with such deliberateness, as if he were holding himself back from moving faster, constantly checking himself. The aura of barely contained violence, age, and potency just confirmed my belief that he was not human.

He focused on me, and the concentration on his face gave me the same kind of uneasiness that gazelles show when a lion wanders onto the savannah to watch the herd. Yet his face was absolutely magnetic in its allure. He had pale, flawless skin with just a hint of a shadow on the sharply-defined jaw line where his beard would be. Dark, elegant eyebrows led up to a wide, noble forehead and prominent cheekbones framed his thickly-lashed eyes. It came together as a face of unearthly perfection.

I blurted out what had immediately crossed my mind; self-editing was not my strong point. "Your eyes," I said. "They're brown today." They were an unusual shade of brown, like green on top of red, a kind of reddish ochre that I'd never seen on anyone else.

"Yes," he said, looking down. "Contacts," he offered in explanation.

"Contacts?" I asked incredulously. Why would an angel wear contacts?

"How are you?" he asked seriously.

"Well, I'm okay, I guess..." I trailed off as he reached for my hand and turned it over in his own. His skin was cold, but his fingers were long and slender, and he very gently traced the scrape on my palm. I had to hold back a gasp when his fingers slowly and tenderly rose on the sensitive inner edge of my arm as he pushed the wide sleeve of my blouse up to my elbow. His fingertips raised goose bumps that raced up my arm, sending a delicate thrill of sensation across me. His beautiful eyebrows drew together at the bruises he saw there.

Still holding my arm, he looked at me solemnly and intently as if begging forgiveness. "I am so sorry I wasn't there earlier."

I felt like I was losing the ability to think coherently. My arm seemed electrified under his cool, tender fingertips and the way they were paused in the slightly ticklish crease of my inner elbow. I pulled myself together enough to say, "I'm grateful that you came at all. If you hadn't come then, well..." I didn't even want to think about that particular scenario. I searched his face. "I suppose we should report this to the police."

"No!" he shouted loudly enough to make me jump and take back my arm from his gentle grip.

I was a cop's daughter; reporting a crime seemed the natural thing to do. "Those guys should be off the street."

"I've taken care of that." His tone said he was absolutely sure, and something made me believe him.

I looked at him, torn in conflict. The policeman's daughter in me knew it was the responsible, civic thing to do, but another part of me had no desire to repeat the story again and again in what I was sure would be a lengthy interrogation process. Also, it had been a while so much of the physical evidence was lost. And what would I tell the police? My angel saved me? Policemen did not like people with crazy stories.

"How is your hip?" he asked, taking a step towards me, and gesturing with his hand.

"Ah, fine," I said, taking a step back and placing my hands flat on my skirt. I was afraid he'd hike it up to check. I felt the blush start as I remembered what he'd done last night and the incredibly sensuous experience of his tongue sliding up my thigh. My leg and hip started to tingle with the memory.

He looked at my skirt, as if he did indeed want to check. Then his eyes moved upwards. "You're blushing," he said as if I'd just done something magical.

"Y..yeah, I do it all the time," I managed to stutter out, embarrassment only increasing the heat I felt in my face. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I waved my hand, trying to downplay the whole thing. "Just pay no attention to it."

"It's beautiful," he whispered, taking another step forward. The feeling of danger, like being locked in a cage with a large, beautiful yet predatory animal increased, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

My eyes rose to his face. He was looking at me with such concentration that I was stunned. He raised his hand to my face and gently dragged his cool forefinger down the length of my cheek. I caught the scent of him then. It was that same exquisite fragrance I had smelled in the church, a transcendent aroma that made my knees tremble and beckoned to me to get closer.

We stood locked on each other's eyes for a moment while I fought with what I was sure were impulses sent straight from hell. Were all angels so incredibly erotic? If he asked me to lie with him right at that moment, on the floor of my living room, I don't know that I would have been able to refuse.

The silence seemed to stretch interminably. "Would you like to take a ride?" he asked, pulling me out of my trance.

Grateful for some action that I could use to fight these feelings, I nodded. "Yes, I think I would."

I grabbed my key, and he waited for me on the front stoop as I locked the door. We both relaxed a little once we were out of the tight confines of my apartment, and I felt like my head was actually beginning to clear from the seduction of his close presence. The night was warm and, as the sky faded to dark purple, the windows and porch lights of the neighboring houses flickered warmly.

It suddenly occurred to me, as I looked around, to wonder what kind of ride I had agreed to. There wasn't any car in my driveway or parked nearby on the street. Were we going to fly?

"This way," he indicated as he led me around to the far side of the duplex. I followed him around the corner, incredibly curious. In the narrow side yard, a motorcycle was parked.

I laughed with relief at this seemingly mundane mode of transportation. "A motorcycle."

He turned to me, asking solicitously, "Will this be all right?"

Jake had introduced me to motorcycles, so even if I had never driven one, I'd had some experience as a rider. "Sure. Looks like fun." This was all so strange and yet somewhat mundane at the same time, a mixture of the ordinary and miraculous that was making my head spin.

"Fun...." he repeated like it was a foreign concept. Gracefully, he swung his long leg over the bike and straddled it.

It occurred to me there weren't any helmets in sight. "Don't we need helmets?" I asked as he set the key in the ignition.

He looked at me with a surprised expression. "You won't need a helmet with me," he said, grinning, somewhat cocky. "I promise you there'll be no accidents." He smiled widely.

It was the first time I had seen him smile, and it changed his face like the sun had been released from a cloud. In the dim light from the streetlamps and the fading day, he looked younger, less dangerous, and it brought out a boyishness I hadn't seen before. His tousled hair glinted in the low lights, and his eyes shone with anticipation. It made him seem real and approachable, and my heart leapt within me. Some of the fear I had of him started to melt away, and my body started to sing in anticipation.

He hit the starter on the bike, and it rumbled to life. He held his hand out to me, and I held onto his slender hand as I threw my leg over the saddle. My knees brushed against the sides of his legs, and I tucked my skirt around my legs, glad I had chosen this one with a generous cut rather than the pencil skirt I had considered as an alternative. His body was absolutely hard against mine; there was no fleshiness or softness that I could tell. I set my hands lightly on his waist that was as hard and unyielding as a tree trunk. From this vantage point, as my portion of the seat rose slightly higher than his, it made the difference in our heights seem less, and I could see the juncture where his neck met his shoulder and the smooth skin that disappeared into the flat collar of his sweater. With an effortless twist of the throttle, we were off.

We started toward the highway that led east out of the city toward Snoqualmie Pass. In many ways, it was the most erotic ride of my life. The streetlamps and city lights flashed by us as we passed through the deepening night, and the warm air rushing by us caressed my naked legs. My skirt fluttered around my thighs while beneath me I felt the powerful thrumming of the motorcycle. The sweater he was wearing must have been cashmere, and it was soft beneath my cheek as I tucked my head behind his back to shield my face from the wind.

The thought briefly crossed my mind to wonder if I was being foolish letting a stranger take me towards a destination I didn't even know. But if Edward wished me harm, he'd had a dozen opportunities. He had healed me; I still couldn't believe it. The cut had been gushing in the shower, and it looked like I was going to have to get stitches. But then he had pinned me with his strong hands, and before I realized what was happening, he healed me with a kiss whose memory still smoldered in my mind, a coal waiting for the rush of air to burst into flames. The cut had closed like a door, and this morning, it was just a narrow red line.

"Where are we headed?" I asked over the roar of the bike.

"The weather is clearing. Do you like star-gazing?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Love it," I shouted. When I lived in Phoenix, I had done a lot of it and had even been in the astronomy club in high school. Renee had gotten me a telescope one Christmas, and often we would drive out to the desert to spend an evening watching the sky.

We eventually turned off the highway by North Bend and paused at the end of the exit ramp. I realized then I had my arms tightly wrapped around his solid torso, my thighs clenched against him while my nose pressed into his back, inhaling his scent. I straightened up, vowing to get myself under control, glad he couldn't see the heat that was making my heart pound and my face burn with shame.

We followed some back roads and came to a dirt trail. It snaked through the black trees, and we bumped along the curvy track until we came to a dark clearing. He eased the bike into it, wading among the tall grasses, and then brought it to a stop, setting his feet down. The headlight of the bike switched off, letting the shadows surround us.

The silence of the night was stunning in the absence of the engine noise. This was the kind of moonless night I loved best, deep and dark. The edges of the clearing were an inky black, populated by ponderous trees that whispered among each other, moving sensuously with the warm breeze. Above us, the vault of the sky lay wide open, a luminous ceiling rich with stars.

I swung my leg off the cycle and stumbled backwards, the inactivity of my muscles while riding and the dizzying effects of Edward's fragrance combining to throw me off balance. Instantly, he was there beside me, a strong hand under my elbow, preventing me from careening to the ground.

"Are you alright?" In the darkness, I couldn't make out his face, only the immense sense of his presence.

"I'm fine, I just need someplace to sit for a moment," I answered, peering ineffectually around the dark clearing.

"I can provide that," he said, removing his hand from my elbow once I was stable. He reached into the motorcycle seat and pulled out a picnic blanket, spreading it on the grass.

As my eyes adjusted, I realized he was holding his hand out to me. "Come, Isabella, sit down," he said courteously.

I gingerly placed my hand in his and we sat down, the grass providing a deep cushioning for the ground.

"You don't have to call me Isabella, you know," I said. "Most people call me Bella."

"I like calling you Isabella," he said. In the darkness I couldn't make out the expression on his face. "I'm not most people."

_No, that you certainly are not._

"My father tells me you know my family," he said conversationally.

My mind flew into high gear. Who did he mean by his family? "Your Father?" I squeaked out.

"Dr. Cullen. He says you went to school with my sister Alice."

"Alice? Alice Cullen?" I was so shocked I was surprised I was even able to think.

"Yes, she's my sister. And Jasper, my brother, of course."

If I'd been thrown into a brick wall, my world couldn't have stopped more abruptly. "The Cullens are your family? The Cullens from Forks?"

In the dim starlight, I could just make out his nodding. "Yes, that's correct. You may even know Rosalie or Emmett."

I knew Dr. Cullen from the hospital emergency room. He was really a wonderful doctor and had a bedside manner that inspired hope and confidence in him. He was young and compassionate; he and his wife took in foster kids too. I knew Alice Cullen, she had been in a couple of classes with me, and I'd at least been able to recognize the other Cullens. For all that they were unrelated, they each had that same, pale otherworldliness. We'd never really talked a lot; all of the Cullens kept to themselves.

"And you're…not an angel?"

He laughed softly. I could feel him lean towards me so that our faces were just inches apart. His sweet breath filled my face, sending the world spinning again. "Oh, no, Isabella. I am no angel."

In the darkness, his eyes were black pools in his face and his cheeks were deeply shadowed, giving him a skeletal aspect. His pale skin gleamed faintly and I realized I was alone here in the dark with someone or something insanely appealing and yet vastly inhuman. _If he wasn't an angel, then what in the world was he?_

_**A/n Sorry, I know its a hard place to stop! But we have to switch to Edward next and I'll get it up as soon as I can!** _


	12. Chapter 12 Cygnus

Love to my betas, Poo235 and hellacullen, part of the great group of betas at PTB. If there are any errors, it's only because I made them later after they'd beta'd.

**Edward**

I leaned forward and let my breath wash across her face, hoping it would mesmerize her enough to soften the blow that she was sure to feel. "Oh, no, Isabella, I am no angel."

I could see her mind working furiously, and I wondered what question she would have for me first. Again, I silently cursed the abyss of silence that separated us. This would be so much easier if I had a way of gauging her true thoughts and reactions.

This was a risky but necessary first step in gradually acclimating her to me. I'd brought her out here to a deserted location in the name of stargazing, knowing that if she screamed or ran, I'd have some chance of explaining things to her, or at least tempering the blow. I'd been surprised she came so willingly; obviously the girl had very few self-preservation instincts.

I'd decided to take things one small step at a time, and while she understood that I was not human, it was imperative before we went any further that we cleared up this ridiculous misconception. It worked well enough to get her out here; now I just needed to show her that it was me—Edward—who was worthy of her trust. A full disclosure would have to be made at some point, but not tonight.

I hoped that I was indeed worthy of her trust. I hadn't felt at all trustworthy on the ride up here. As we'd passed through the dark countryside, she had gradually relaxed against my back, and I became acutely aware of her soft breasts pressed against my back and the way her knees were spread around my hips. The skirt she'd worn had danced around her thighs in the wind, promising to shift up higher with each turn we took. Her hands had gradually crept around my torso until we were as close as lovers and her hands were spread flat on me. I had felt my body respond to her and it was only after we'd pulled off the highway at the off ramp that I realized her actions had been that of her subconscious and not an open invitation because I would have been ready right then to take her by the side of the road.

I was reveling in the awakening feelings of sexual desire that had lain fallow for so long. After so many years of feeling asexual, to have this link to my humanity re-established was heartening. But it wasn't just sexual desire that was driving me, it was the need to know this woman in every possible way. The years of solitude had come crashing down around me in a backlash I could never have anticipated. The need to connect with another being was primal in its intensity, as deeply rooted as a survival instinct. Maybe I could pull myself back from the brink of despair and find a way back to myself through her. More and more, I was putting my hopes for the future into her unknowing hands.

"Well, then what _are_ you?" she asked, her brows furrowing.

"In many ways, just like you." The darkness gave me the advantage; it hid my face, but my sharper eyes could see hers.

"You're not human." She stated this without doubt.

I didn't want to lie outright to her, but I could play coy for a bit. "No."

"Speed, strength, healing..." She was trying to fit the pieces together. Her eyebrows pulled together in an enchanting way as she concentrated.

"Well, not healing, really. More like just the ability to staunch blood." _Blood. Like your blood. Like your deliciously sublime, entrancing blood._ The bloodlust rattled the bars of its cage, but I had it firmly locked away tonight. It was definitely playing second fiddle to a different kind of lust. I couldn't count on that for longer than a few days.

She fell silent, thinking.

"What I am," I said, raising her hand to my lips, "is enthralled by you." I pressed my lips to the back of her hand, feeling the delicious warmth that suffused it and letting her sublime fragrance fill my nostrils. _How pathetically old-fashioned,_ I castigated myself, wondering if I was totally alienating her.

But I was rewarded by the sudden increase in her heart rate. Her eyes were already hugely dilated, and her breath hitched in her throat. I turned her palm over and kissed it as well, feeling the rough scrapes under my lips. I let my free hand trace up the side of her arm, pushing the fabric away. It was like touching heated velvet, and I longed to touch all of her. Her soft gasp thrilled me to the core.

Was I desperate enough to play dirty? I brought my face close to hers, staring at her intently and letting my scent lure her into that half-awake suggestive state that I knew humans were vulnerable to. "Lie back, Isabella," I urged, letting the vampire glamour work on her.

Almost trancelike, she lay back on the blanket and stretched her legs out straight. Her inebriating perfume rolled off her in waves, calling to the dark and lustful side of me. Her eyes never left mine as I dropped to my elbow next to her. I touched her silken throat just beyond the pulse point with my fingertip and let my finger trail down past the collar of her shirt. The tension between us increased a thousand fold, and I felt a shiver run through her.

"You are so beautiful, Isabella," I crooned to her. "Yet your mind is such a mystery."

She didn't answer; the glamour was highly hypnotic. It left humans in a highly suggestive state, but it seemed to sap their initiative. I knew Carlisle frowned on its use, but I had known him to use it in medical emergencies.

I laid my hand flat on her belly, just under the swell of her breasts. Her pheromones kicked in, and I could smell the start of her arousal. It was as sweet as the rest of her, and my body acknowledged my desire to make love to her. She was tempting, so tempting, staring at me with her wide eyes, unknowingly ready to submit to me, if I willed it. I could claim her here and now. I let my eyes travel the length of her from the pale, sweet flesh of the neck, where kisses could be laid when she threw her head back with pleasure, to the small, delicate ankles that I could encircle easily with my hand.

But in the scent of her arousal was a wrong note, a dissonance within the rest of the song of her perfume. There was a trace of fear, tainting the harmony like an untuned instrument. I could entice her into submitting to me, but she'd know it was never fully her will, and it would poison things between us.

Her slender body was stretched out beside me, and I realized she wasn't the only one facing fear. The strength of my desperation to have this slight young woman like me was humbling. No, not like; I wanted her to love me. Strong and solitary, I had moved through the world. Now my world was hinging on her smile and the light in her eyes.

I took one last look down the length of her body, putting away the lust for another time and sighed, rolling to my back.

"So what constellations are you familiar with?" I asked.

"I…uh…" I heard the momentary confusion in her voice as she came back to full awareness. Yes, it was in my power to glamour her into obedience, but it wasn't her obedience, or even her submission, that I wanted. I wanted her complete and utter surrender, and I would pursue her until it and she were mine. There was a huge difference in what I could take and what she could freely give, and I would have it all.

"Well, there's Ursa Minor and Ursa Major of course," she said, pointing out the constellations to me, as we both lay looking up at the shimmering sky. "There's Lyra and the Pleides. What about you?"

"I'd rather hear what you know. What's that one up there?" I said, pointing almost straight up, thinking she would know the answer. I wasn't disappointed.

"That's Cygnus, my favorite, of course." Her eyes glistened in the darkness.

"The Swan. That makes sense."

"When I was a child, I'd wish that it was me up there, sailing the night skies." She smiled at the memory, and the smile made me wish I'd known her then. I would wager she was a delightful child.

"Well, I'm glad you stuck to the earth. It would be too lonely up there, stuck in the sky for all eternity, flying alone."

"But look at her, she's not alone." She pointed to other constellations. Her arms were lovely, long and slender. "There's Delphinus, the dolphin, Aquarius, Pegasus. She's surrounded by friends."

"But no mate." Could she tell how many layers there were to this conversation or was I being needlessly obtuse?

"No, there are no other swans," she said wistfully.

"It would be very hard to go through eternity all by oneself, with no one to share it with." I studied her face while she gazed up at the luminous sky. She was peaceful and serene, and I realized that there was extraordinary beauty there of a very subtle kind. I was fighting urges to touch her that pounded at me in waves, but I was afraid if I started again, I'd be unable to stop.

"Why, yes, I guess it would." She turned to me, half-smiling until she took in my somber expression. "Yes, it would," she whispered.

I heard her heart thump unexpectedly as I broke our gaze and returned mine to the sky.

She sighed. "It's nights like these when I can feel the presence of God the most."

"You feel God?"

"Don't you? Look at this beauty. You can't see God's hand in that?"

"It is beautiful," I admitted.

"I think God made us so we could enjoy the beauty He created."

"So we're God's cheering section? His applause?"

She giggled. "Well, more than that, of course." She glanced at me briefly before scanning the stars again. "But when I look at a night like this: the perfect darkness, heaven turning like a wheel above us, it's then I know we're not alone—that there is something that can't be explained, a mystery older and wider than the universe."

She spoke with such innocence and trust that my cold, still heart ached within me. There was a time when I would have looked at the night sky and felt the wonder and awe. I remembered the feeling of reverence, of feeling part of a larger mystery. Still, my existence argued for the fact that God had a cruel streak.

I rolled to my stomach, turning my head so I could watch her. "The problem I have with God is that he gets credit for all the good stuff and none of the blame for the bad."

She rolled to her side to face me. "The bad?"

"There's so much cruelty and hate out there. I can't believe that a just God would allow that to happen."

"Are you trying to judge God?" she asked softly.

"Well, somebody has to. He sets us up in a world full of sin and temptation and then bids us have at it? Would you do that to your child? Would you leave a toddler alone in a room full of knives and matches and then abandon them to see what happened?"

"But he hasn't abandoned us, don't you see? He's just—"

I jumped up, unable to keep still while my anger and bitterness ate at me. I took a few steps away from the blanket to stare at the dark trees in the distance. "He has abandoned us. Or me, at least. Perhaps it's different for you. But I'll never see the face of God."

I heard her take a sharp intake of breath. "How can you say that? There's nothing He can't forgive if you come to Him with a repentant heart." She rose to her knees on the blanket. "He loves us. We just need to learn to love Him back."

"Really, Isabella?" I turned to her; she had her hands in her lap. "There are some things even God can't forgive," I said, thinking back to my litany and remembering my conversation with Carlisle in the meadow.

I heard the breath catch in her throat as she froze in place. "No, there aren't," she said, her voice trembling. "He can forgive anything. He has to."

I was stunned by the emotion with which she spoke and the suddenly strident note in her voice. I took in her clenched fists held by her sides, and I realized I didn't know if she was talking about my crimes or her own. Did she conceal her own secrets, and what might she have done that she would imagine was unforgivable? I looked at her sweet, vulnerable face as she peered into the darkness, unable to recognize the horror that stood right in front of her.

"He can, He does," she whispered to herself, her unseeing eyes staring off into the night, before she shook her head, dismissing whatever thought she'd had.

She rose off the blanket and approached me. "I wish you could know God the way I do. Is there no sense of the sacred where you come from?" she asked gently.

She stood in front of me, a slender beautiful young woman, breathtaking in every way. Her windblown hair was massed around her shoulders and her delicate features, perfect in their human imperfection, were raised to me. I realized that she could be the altar where I worshipped.

I murmured softly, "Yes, love is sacred."

She smiled, her features almost glowing from the radiance of her soul. "Well, see, we do agree."

The doubts I had came rushing back to me. Could I really ask this girl to give up her human life to spend millennia with me in the life of a vampire? I would be taking God from her, surely the worst theft that could be conceived. Perhaps I should just end her here, send her on to God and be done with the whole ugly mess.

But as soon as I thought it, my whole being cried out, _No!_ _She must live, she will live._ If she would not accept me, then I would leave her and let her live her life as it was meant to be before she had stumbled on me in a church.

The bloodlust within me growled at such a ridiculous concept, that I would ever be able to walk away from the drug of her scent. This wrestling with myself would surely drive me crazy. I would do whatever I could to persuade her to be with me, because as much as I craved her blood and her body, and the cravings were indeed considerable, I needed her to bring me back to what was human in myself. With her, I could see doors opening up into a life lived with love and harmony, the kind of life that my family had achieved. Without her, endless years of blood, death and brutality stretched before me into an inexorable descent into the mindless feeding of the truly ancient vampires.

A thought struck me out of the blue. FlowersI should have brought her flowers. I wasn't much of a suitor.

We returned to the blanket and settled back in. I glanced over at her as she adjusted her skirt around her legs. "I know so little about you. Will you tell me about yourself?"

She put her hands in her lap and smiled. "What would you like to know?"

I wanted to know everything; I started at the beginning. "Where were you born?"

"Forks. I lived there until I was four. Then my parents got divorced and my mom and I moved away. I moved back to live with my dad when I was in high school. How about you?"

"Chicago."

She looked at me, her head cocked to one side. I could see this new clue start the wheels turning in her head again. "You were born in Chicago."

"Yes," I said, smiling at the tone of disbelief in her voice.

"And your parents?"

"Both died from disease."

Her face fell, and she laid a hand on my arm. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Often people say that reflexively, because there is not much else that can be said. But hearing her say it made me think that it was more than just a knee-jerk reaction. Her brown eyes were shining with warmth and sympathy, and it made something catch in my throat, a taste of the sorrow I had long since buried. The warmth of her hand rippled through me, but I shook my head. "It was a long time ago. Where did you live before coming back to Forks? "

"Phoenix." She rolled her eyes a bit. "It's like the exact opposite of Forks, dry, sunny and brown. Very brown." I smiled at her ruefulness.

She still wanted more information from me, her eagerness to ask questions was apparent. Playfully she asked, "And what do you do when you're not rescuing girls on dark city streets?"

"I guess you could say I'm in crime prevention." I looked over to see how she responded to that.

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? My dad is a cop."

"Well, I'm more like an undercover investigator. Or I should say I was. I'm leaving that line of work." I could tell she was thinking again, and I was sure she was about to question my nature, so I rushed in to fill the void. "So you're a waitress?"

This was so interesting, bizarre and maddening at the same time—to have to talk with someone to know what they were thinking. It was like trying to open a Christmas present by peeling away the gift wrapping one tiny strip at a time when you just wanted to tear into it and rush the discovery.

"Just for now. I'll be going to Shoreline come the winter semester."

"Shoreline?"

"The community college. I'll start there, and then, if I can get some scholarships, transfer to a four year school."

"What do you want to study?"

"Psychology. I'm interested in the human mind, how it works, what makes people behave the way they do."

"Good luck with that. I haven't been able to figure them out," I said, shaking my head.

"So what about you? Did you go to school?"

"Yes, but it's been a long time. I've been thinking of going back." I was going to need to do something with my time, and following her to school was not an unattractive option.

"A long time. How old are you anyway?" She was looking at me with a glint of determination in her eye. It occurred to me that I was going to be unable to let my guard down around her or let myself get lulled into underestimating her.

"Actually, I am considered quite young," I said, temporizing.

"And the Cullens are your family," she said, trying to fit the pieces together. "But you haven't been living in Forks?"

"That's right. But I'm hoping to join them for a while at least."

She studied my face. "There's a certain family resemblance. Are they like you?"

I had already told her as much as I dared to. Small bits, I reminded myself. Feed her the truth in small bits. Actually, the mystery could work to my advantage. It would keep her involved, wanting to solve the puzzle of my nature until I could reveal the truth. "Isabella, I've told you as much as I can tonight. Please let our differences lie for a while."

I could see the consideration she gave this request, and I almost jumped up and shouted with the strength of my frustration in not being able to read her. But she gracefully consented, and we returned to our positions to watch the far flung stars above us. I told her of the Greek Mythology of the various constellations, and she told me of some of the Navajo tales that involved the stars that she had learned while living in the Southwest.

We were still on the blanket and I rolled to my side, supporting my head with my hand.

"So you must know all of the myths of Cygnus since it's your favorite."

"Well, there's the one where Leda was seduced when Zeus turned himself into a swan." She glanced over and smiled. "So then she laid an egg, and that is something I have particular trouble imagining." I chuckled at her scandalized expression. "And out of that came Helen of Troy and some other person."

"Yes, Polydeuces. Are you familiar with the Yeats poem?"

"No, Yeats wrote a poem about Leda?"

"Yes." I took a breath and drudged it up.

_"A sudden blow: the great wings beating still  
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed  
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,  
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast._

_"How can those terrified vague fingers push  
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?  
And how can body, laid in that white rush,  
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?"_

"There's more, but you get the idea."

She crossed her hands and pressed them against her belly. "That's rather more...sensual than I would have expected from Yeats."

"I know," I said grinning. "Rather surprising for an Irish Protestant."

She turned to look at me. "Do you know the rest?"

I continued.

_"A shudder in the loins engenders there  
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower_

_And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up,  
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,  
Did she put on his knowledge with his power  
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?"_

She was silent, digesting this. I could tell it struck a chord with her, but why I couldn't fathom.

She sighed. "Sounds like he was just another player."

I laughed at her rather unexpected assessment. "Yes, I suppose so."

"_Did she put on his knowledge with his power?_ What do you suppose he meant by that?"

I rose to a sitting position and put my arms around my knees. "Perhaps that as they lay together, she saw the swan for what it really was."

"So she knew she'd been duped before he let her drop?" She sounded almost indignant.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, I suppose that's one interpretation."

She rose beside me and echoed my position. "What else could it be?'

"That she took on his power before he could let her go and so saved herself."

"Could she take on his power?" she asked, her eyes intent on my face.

I looked over at her; her eyes were dark and huge. "If he gave it to her."

"Can power like that be given?"

I looked back into her delicate, heart-shaped face; even in this low light, I could see how clear and warm the shining brown of her eyes was. Why I had ever thought brown could only be a muddy color, I couldn't say. "Yes, it can. But there is a price, a huge price." It seemed like we had stopped talking about the poem. I didn't know what else I could add to that and some part of me was relieved when I heard her stomach rumble. "You're hungry," I said.

Her eyes widened and she put her hand on her stomach. "You heard that?"

"Yes," I said, smiling as that entrancing blush crept up her neck and cheeks. I looked away to the trees and stopped breathing for a moment, trying to stabilize my own racing emotions. That blush was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. It made me want her in all kinds of ways. "We should get some food."

"Okay," she agreed. I stood and offered my hand to her as she rose off the blanket. Her hand felt so small and vulnerable in mine, like having a small bird trapped there.

She brushed at her skirt as I folded and stashed the blanket. I climbed on the bike, started it and then offered my hand as she swung her leg over the saddle. She settled in behind me, tucking her skirt modestly around her legs. As I turned the bike and slowly drove out of the field toward the road, I felt her arms slip around my waist and her chest and cheek settle against my back. The sweet warmth from that contact suffused into me like ripples on a pond, and I knew that I would never again be able to ride this or any other motorcycle without the memory of that tender warmth haunting me.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

**A/N** As I was researching Cygnus, I came across many references to Leda and The Swan. An exploration of this erotic theme in art can be found on my Live Journal page

http:// duskwatcher . livejournal . com/9937 . html

Please review before you go!


	13. Chapter 13 The Caged Tiger

I have failed this week with my review replies, I am sorry! Things have kind of gotten away from me. Please know that I read every one (sometimes over and over!) Thank you!

**Bella**

We rode back to the city in the dark velvet of the night, the roar of the motorcycle droning a song of speed and wind. I laid my cheek against the soft cashmere of his sweater, marveling at the rock hardness of him. Silk over steel or satin over granite; the startling combination of opposites that seemed to characterize my new friend.

He wasn't an angel—that much he'd told me. That was a relief in one aspect because the desires he was creating in me were hardly appropriate for an angel. I found him endlessly seductive; the desire to lie back and let myself drift away wherever he would take me was almost overwhelming. This time that I was spending with him was passing in what seemed a dream state, every sense heightened, every sensation magnified, while at the same time the logical and skeptical side of me fell farther and farther away. The spell that he was casting was dragging me under as surely as an undertow.

At the same time a part of me very definitely was trying to wake me up to the sense of danger. It was like being locked in a cage with a tiger, mesmerized by their feral beauty, the sense of coiled power, and the desire to feel the silken fur under your fingers. The immediate beauty and sensations would be almost intoxicating enough-almost but not quite-to ignore the canine teeth as long as your finger or the scimitar claws.

What other kind of being would God have made and sent to me? For if I accepted that he wasn't an angel of heaven, I still had to believe he'd been sent by God. Only an agent of God would have been able to subdue my attackers so quickly and completely. What had happened to them? And what of the healing? Surely that would be called miraculous.

And the resemblance he had with the Cullens, foster children or not. I had never paid that much attention to them in school. But with Edward here, it was lifting the veil from my eyes. I still couldn't make out the puzzle, but the pieces were clicking into place. The Cullens were all strangely and ethereally beautiful, friendly but aloof. Even Dr. Cullen, whom I admired, I now realized had the same uncanny, pale allure. They had always been outsiders, but now, knowing that Edward was something beyond my experience, I was beginning to question everything about the Cullens that I had taken for granted. However, I found myself unwilling to question too far. Within Edward, I was finding that same kind of spirituality, of connectedness, I only associated with my religious life. Sometimes the mystery is more compelling than the answer.

Gradually the streetlights grew closer together as the traffic around us picked up, announcing our re-entry into Seattle. We got off the highway and rumbled towards the central District. He pulled over to a lighted corner and told me to wait while he parked the bike.

I looked at the dark streets around us as the memories of last night came rushing back. The night traffic was sparse, and the city loomed forbiddingly. I got off the bike and hugged myself, trying to stay calm. I would only feel safe with him beside me. "Please, I'm uncomfortable being here alone," I pleaded. "Promise me you'll be right back."

"I'll be back before you know I'm gone," he assured me, smiling before disappearing around a corner. The noise from the bike cut out almost immediately, and he was beside me before I even had time to wonder where he'd gone.

I jumped at his sudden re-appearance. "You're nothing if not quick," I said lightly.

"I'm the fastest in my family," he said, grinning like a child.

I guessed that it must be after 2:00 am, and besides Ray's Diner, I didn't know many places that were open all night. We headed down the mostly deserted city sidewalks, passing the darkened shop windows and closed businesses.

He thrust his hands in his pockets as we walked. "There's a place up here that I know serves food."

"Oh, that'd be great." I was quite hungry; I had been too nervous to eat before he picked me up. "May I ask you something?"

His eyes became guarded, but he nodded and said, "Sure."

"Do you always drive that slowly?" On the ride back from stargazing, we'd meandered along quite lazily. I thought guys on motorcycles were speed-obsessed.

"Ah, no, not always," he said abashedly, looking at the ground as we strode down the sidewalk. "I took my time because I was enjoying myself."

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.

He looked at me with those intense, mesmerizing eyes and smiled. "You're awfully warm."

I had nothing to say to that and kept walking.

"There's that blush again," he said softly.

I kept my eyes on the sidewalk. "Well, I told you it happens all the time."

"And each time it is lovelier than the time before."

I stopped to check his face, but there was no mockery in it. Instead, he stopped beside me as well and turned to me. The difference in our heights was enough that I just came to his shoulder and he dropped his head to gaze at me. My heart skipped a beat as I studied his perfect features looking solemnly back at me. My thoughts came crashing down on me again, jumbling my coherency, so I put my head down and continued walking.

We went a few more paces in silence when I realized he was no longer beside me. He'd stopped at the lounge we had just passed and was holding the door open, as if he expected me to walk inside.

"They have food here," he offered.

I looked at the window of the lounge next to the door he was holding open. The thumping from the bass of a loud sound system drifted out the open door. Suddenly, my heart dropped into my feet. Maybe I had badly misjudged him, if he thought I would go into that kind of place. "No," I said, shaking my head and backing up a few paces.

His eyebrows pulled together in an expression of confusion. "They have food?" he repeated.

I had no doubt they had food; they also very prominently advertised exotic dancers with posters of women in various stages of undress. I turned on my heels and started striding down the street while I felt tears of embarrassment and anger start to collect in my throat. What kind of woman did he think I was if he thought I would visit a place like that?

He was beside me instantly, pacing me, as I strode down the street and wondered if I could find a cab at this hour. "Isabella, what's wrong?"

I couldn't trust myself to talk, so he addressed me again. "I've upset you, and I don't know why. Please, Isabella, tell me."

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," I said, trying hard to sound normal and in control of myself, even as I pounded along the pavement.

"Please, Isabella." His voice was near to pleading, soft and insistent in my ear.

I turned to face him. "Why would you think I would go in there?" I confronted him, hurt and confused.

He looked at me in bewilderment, and then glanced over his shoulder at the place we had just left, back and forth several times before I finally saw understanding cross his face. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said softly and sincerely. "I've offended you. Please believe me, that was not my intention."

"Do you go into places like that often?" I asked, wondering how he could have made an error like that.

"Please, you must forgive me," he said, taking my hand into his cool ones and looking intently into my eyes. "In my line of work, it is often where I find the kind of people I hunt, er, I search for. I should have known better."

I looked at him, trying to stay adamant, but the beseeching in his face seemed to have a line right into my hypothalamus that urged me to give him whatever it was he wanted. Whenever he let his guard down, so much pain and longing shone from his face. That such transcendent features could be etched with such suffering was so terribly ironic. His was a face that should be tranquil with ecstasy, and yet to see him torn in conflict was heartrending.

I'd known the kind of men that frequented those kinds of clubs; you couldn't be a cop's daughter without some street smarts rubbing off. Very often, it was the men that disliked women _as people_ that spent a lot of time in places like that. I didn't get any kind of that vibe at all from Edward. Instead, in his face, I saw genuine concern and such tenderness that it made it hard to speak.

He pulled my hand he was holding to his heart. It was tingling with the excitement of his touch. "You must believe me when I say I would never—never—intentionally distress you. I wouldn't want to hurt you, Isabella, ever..."

"Your line of work, the one you are leaving, yes?" I asked, trying to reassure myself of his good intentions.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm not very good at this, I know. I want you to like me, but it's been a long time since I've had...a friend, and I seem to have forgotten some of the social conventions. Please, you must accept my apology."

His words tore at me. It had been a long time since he'd had a friend? The miles of loneliness I could hear behind that simple statement tugged at me. And where had he been that he'd forgotten social conventions? For every one thing I learned from him, it brought up two more questions.

"I guess I can," I said, feeling totally disarmed by the beauty and pain on his face. But still, the questions nagged at me. "Perhaps you can answer some of my questions?" I asked, wondering if a deal could be struck to ease my curiosity.

He thought this over. "Alright," he agreed, nodding. "But not tonight."

"Soon?"

He smiled at my persistence. "Soon."

I gently withdrew my hand from his grip. "Alright, then, you can buy me breakfast."

"A deal. Where shall we go?"

I glanced around. "This is Seattle, there has to be a Starbucks somewhere around here."

He gestured with his chin, indicating in front of us. "Up two blocks and on the left."

We started walking again in the direction he'd indicated. "I do, you know," I said, looking at the ground passing beneath my feet.

I glanced over at him; he was looking at me expectantly.

"I do like you," I said softly.

We took another few steps, and I chanced another peek. He was smiling broadly, with that wide boyish smile I had seen once before, and it made my heart jump in my chest. Whatever he was, he made me feel confused, intoxicated and more alive than I had ever remembered.

We entered the door beside the welcoming lights of the Starbucks and I ordered a latte and a blueberry muffin, a bit taken aback when he ordered only coffee. "You're not hungry?" I asked.

"Not right now," he said and left it at that.

The seating area was nearly deserted, except for a single man pouring over a newspaper and a very tired-looking couple who nursed their drinks in silence. The bright fluorescent lights washed everyone out, giving them a ghastly hue, but as pale as Edward was, it only made him seem like he was on the brink of glowing. We took seats at a small table near a window, and I sipped at my drink. "You seem to know Seattle well," I commented, wondering if I could draw him out.

"Yes. I pass through here quite frequently."

"Where else have you been?"

He sighed and tilted his chair to lean back against the window. "Oh, so many places. It would be easier to list the places I haven't been than to list those that I have."

"Okay, so where _haven't_ you been?" I asked, looking at him over the edge of my cup.

He looked over and smiled; the sheer flawlessness of his features seemed to slice right through me. "Antarctica. I've never been to Antarctica."

"Well, that makes two of us," I said, trying not to let the transcendence of his features dumbfound me. The young Latina barista brought my muffin over, and I thanked her, noting that she seemed as taken by Edward's looks as I was. It was gratifying that he never even noticed her.

"So what's your favorite place been?" I said, picking at my muffin.

"I think I would have to say the Serengeti at dawn. I'd never seen anything quite like it."

"What did you like most?"

"The herds of animals co-existing, together. Even the lions were part of it." His face became reflective, and for the first time, some of the pain he held in his face relaxed. "Somehow the prey animals can tell when the lions are fed and not hunting. To watch the sun rise over the savannah, as the animals greet the day; that was breathtaking." He rolled the edge of his cup around the table in a small circle, and his eyebrows drew together. "I'm sure things have changed since I was there, but to be alone with that..." He sighed. "I get so tired of listening to people."

"Listening to people?"

He stopped, and his face became guarded again. It seemed I would just get him talking and opening up before I would unknowingly trigger the walls he armed himself with. He leaned forward in his chair. "So where have you been?"

"Well, I've been to Mexico, but that's as international as I've gotten," I said, knowing how incredibly small-town sounding my life experience had been so far.

We talked more about places we'd been, my pitiful few lined up against his impressive list. He kept asking me questions about the movies that I liked and the books I was reading, but when I tried to ask about him, he kept the answers to my questions short and perfunctory.

He left the coffeehouse to go get the motorcycle while I picked up the trash at our table. His coffee cup felt heavy, and when I opened it, I noticed it was full; he hadn't touched it at all. I stared at the glistening liquid, trying to put the clues together but unable to come up with even a coherent guess.

I heard the thrumming of the motorcycle as it idled outside the store, and I went out to meet him by the curb of the sidewalk. He held his hand out to steady me as I climbed aboard and settled in behind him. This was rapidly becoming my favorite way to travel. The wind slid past us like a warm caress while his solid body in front of me, and the accompaniment of the thrumming of the engine beneath us, added to the sensuousness and dream-like quality of the experience.

It was a brief ride back to my duplex, and I couldn't help wonder how the night would end. We pulled up in the driveway to my house; all the windows were dark, except for one by my entry hall, where I normally kept a light on. Darcy's outline in the window as she waited for my return made me smile. I guessed that dawn was not far away.

He turned the bike off, and we sat for a moment listening to the night noises. In the distance, a siren wailed, and I could hear the occasional car go by at the cross street. I pushed myself up and off the bike. He set the kickstand and slowly swung his leg over and stood next to me.

I looked up at his face, again taken aback by the solemn expression there. He was watching me as one might watch a frightened animal, careful not to make any sudden movements or loud noises. I could feel the urge to step closer to him, to smell that incredible fragrance and to run my hand on that sweater. But something was holding me back. Whether it was my fear of the unknown or my commitment to a life within the guidance of Christ, I couldn't say. But I knew I had to say goodnight here, to ask him inside would be more than I could handle.

He took a step closer. "Thank you for coming with me tonight," he said huskily.

"Thank you. I enjoyed myself very much." That sounded so formal; his manner of speaking seemed to be rubbing off on me. Awkwardly, I gestured towards the house. "I should... go inside now."

"May I see you again?" he asked softly.

My heart sang within me. "I'd like that."

He smiled as well. "Later today?"

"Well, I need to go Mass, and I was hoping to get to Forks to visit my father..."

"I'll escort you," he said immediately.

I didn't know if I was ready to explain bringing home a man with me to my father's house. "Well..."

"Please allow me," he urged. "You need a ride to Forks. I'll drop you off at your father's and come get you later. I'll visit with my family while you visit yours. Then we can ride back together."

That would solve how I would get to Forks. Tentatively, I nodded. "Alright."

"What time will you go to church?"

"Mass is at four."

"I'll be here at three-thirty."

I shook my head in disbelief. After our conversation in the field, I was surprised by his eagerness to come to church with me. But if I could bring him to God, or maybe even back to God, then I really might have accomplished something. "You really want to come to Mass?"

He nodded. "If you'll be there, then yes."

I backed up a step. "I'll see you at three-thirty."

He took a step closer. "Good night, Isabella," he said gently.

"Good night, Edward," I said, ducking my head shyly, and turning towards the house. I knew my shyness didn't make any sense as he'd seen almost all of me there was to see, but healing was one thing and kissing was another. I didn't know if our relationship was platonic or romantic, or even what he wanted in that respect, but my heart had been battered enough that I had to give it some time.

I stopped when I got to the door and turned back to see him watching me. I could just make out his silhouette in the night as he leaned against the motorcycle, the streetlamp down the corner providing just barely enough illumination. His hair and the skin over his high cheekbones glinted dully in the low light, and he raised his hand in a gentle gesture of goodbye. _So unearthly beautiful_, I thought, waving back and then turning my key in the door.

The mystery of his nature engaged my mind, while his beauty and exquisite aroma engaged my senses. He was soft-spoken and seductively gentle around me, yet the sense of deep power and strength emanating from him was unmistakable. If he wasn't an angel of God, per se, perhaps he was_ my _angel. He had said he'd been born of parents in Chicago; that reassured me because I knew then that he at least had been born as a child of God.

Was I wrong to be so trusting of him? There was a rightness I felt in being with him that resonated deeply in me. I'd had so much pain in my life, and I felt like I'd been wrestling with matters too great for me for way too long. I was ready for something good to happen to me. I could harbor hope that perhaps things were turning around for me, perhaps heaven could smile even on her greatest sinners.

I prepared for bed, creating a list of questions in my mind that I would try to ask him, if even the most obvious one—what are you?—couldn't be answered. It took me a while to feel calm enough to feel sleepy, and I watched as the world hidden mostly by my window shade slowly lightened with the coming of dawn.

Gradually, I fell asleep, only to be wakened soon after by a vivid nightmare. In it, I'd been in a meadow, resting, when an ominous breeze rustled the surrounding trees. I'd known something terrible and dangerous was coming through the trees towards me. Jumping to my feet, I'd started to run away into the dark forest, becoming more and more frightened, as I'd fled past the gnarled and twisted trees. Behind me, I had heard the crashing through the brush as the dark and faceless monster pursued me relentlessly. I'd heard my mother's voice yelling in my ear, the fear in her voice evident-"Run, Bella, run!"

Almost crying with fear and frustration, I'd yelled back, "I'm trying, Mom, I'm trying!" Tripping on a branch root, I'd fallen hard to the ground. Turning to my back, my heart pounding and chest heaving with exertion, I'd watched horrified as the bushes in front of me rattled with the monster's approach. Any moment I'd known I would see his face and it had terrified me.

I'd woken with a violent start, my pulse racing, damp at the neck with the heat and emotion. I almost never dreamed of my mother; to have her in such a nightmare, and to have heard her fear was heart-rending. I pulled the pillow closer to me, and let it soak up the tears, haunted by an uneasy sense of impending danger coming from an unforeseen corner of my world.

* * *

**A/N Your review is my sustenance! Thank you!**


	14. Chapter 14 I Will Not Be Denied

Some special thanks to LightStarDusting who sent me sme great inspiration and of course, my long suffering, comma-inflicted betas, hellacullen and Poo235.

**Edward**

I raised my hand in farewell as Bella disappeared into her front door. Immediately, I missed the concentration of her scent, though it still lingered on the bike and the back of my sweater. _I may never wash this sweater. I'll just carry it around with me like Linus' security blanket_. I was positively giddy, a very uncharacteristic feeling for me.

It had gone well, it had gone surprisingly well. Foremost, I hadn't killed her. That made me smile to myself as I jumped on the bike and started it up. I was sure most human males didn't have that particular dating anxiety, but nevertheless I was heartened by the fact that I'd been able to control myself. It'd gotten a bit harder by the end of the evening as the gorging of the night before began to wear off, but still, I had done it. I was jubilant and hopeful that I could have time and space to date Isabella and develop a relationship with her before any life-altering decisions had to be made. I wanted time for us to explore each other and for things to evolve in a natural progression.

I took the contacts from my eyes and threw them away, happy to bid them goodbye. They were a mild irritant and they were notoriously unstable. The venom tended to eat away at them, and I'd had to replace them several times during the night. I threw the bike into gear and pulled out, heading for Forks. It was a good hour and a half drive, but in the mood I was in, I didn't mind. I was walking on clouds, a feeling I hadn't even come close to in a long time. She'd said she liked me. The memory of that seemed to burn a hole in my chest, a good burn that raced down my nerves and made me want to jump up and shout.

The only false note had been the place I had selected to buy food at. I kicked myself for that. I'd used those kinds of places as feeding grounds so often I'd gotten inured to the societal injunctions against them. The women on display there may have meant more to the usual patrons, but they were just wallpaper as far as my libido was concerned. But of course, Isabella wouldn't have known that. And then when I realized that here I had asked this sweet innocent into what she surely viewed as the most iniquitous den of sin and misery, I'd been horrified at my own callousness. But I'd been able to turn it around in time, and she'd even agreed to see me tomorrow.

I tried not to examine my motives for wanting to see her again too closely. Was I really ready to ask this girl to give up her humanity for an existence as a vampire? Could she ever really care enough about me to separate forever from her friends and family? Now more than ever, I appreciated the dilemma Carlisle had faced as he had made Esme and myself. When an empty eternity stretches endlessly before you, the selfish urge to find someone to fill it with becomes a powerful and unyielding temptation.

I pulled into the driveway of the Forks home and saw the garage door was open, so I pulled into the open space that Carlisle had cleared for the motorcycle and turned the bike off. In the next bay, I could see Rosalie's legs sticking out from underneath a rather rundown 1957 Thunderbird. It was missing a door and a windshield, and parts were scattered around the garage floor.

As I dismounted from the bike, Rosalie wheeled herself out from under the car and sat up on the dolly, holding a large wrench. "Hey, Edward," she said amicably, rising to her feet. She was dressed in powder blue overalls that had the waist cinched in a very unmechanic-like way. Rosalie really was a beautiful girl, and even with her hair pinned up and a smear of grease across her cheek, she outshone other women easily. Most of them, anyway.

"Hello, Rosalie," I said dismounting from the bike. "How goes the restoration? Where did you find this beauty anyway?"

She turned and looked at the Thunderbird appraisingly. "Olson's junkyard. The tranny's a mess, but I think we'll be able to salvage the engine. Emmett's in town picking up some hoses."

"I love those early Thunderbirds," I said, admiring the lines of the car.

"Oh, me too," she agreed. She turned towards me and gave me the once over. "So, I hear you've got a girlfriend."

"Well, that's rushing things a bit, but yes, I've started to court somebody."

Rosalie chuckled. "God, Edward, sometimes you are so..."

I raised an eyebrow at her. She adjusted the word she had in mind and came out with, "old-fashioned."

I turned and got the picnic blanket out of the motorcycle seat. "Well, I'm sure it may seem that way sometimes. I just try to stay away from pop culture. It's a bit too crass for me."

"Well, spend enough time with humans and you'll see how much it rubs off," she complained, walking over to the tool bench. "I can't tell you what torture high school is these days."

I grinned as I put the blanket away in the storage cupboard. "I'm sure."

She looked down pensively and twirled the wrench she was holding. "I felt guilty for a long time, you know," she said softly.

I turned to her in surprise. "About what?" I asked.

She stared at the wrench in her hand. "That I wasn't enough," she said apologetically.

She glanced quickly at me and then turned her back, fitting a lug wrench together. I guessed she had seen the lack of understanding on my face. "If I'd been more of what Carlisle had hoped for me—for you and me—perhaps you wouldn't have left the family."

"Rosalie," I said, stunned by this unforeseen revelation, "I never would have blamed you..." I knew Carlisle had saved Rosalie from death with a vague hope of providing a mate for me, but I'd never guessed that Rosalie had felt the pressure of that expectation.

She waved her hand. "No, not blame, I know. But if we had..." She turned towards me, studying the wrench in her hand. She took a deep breath and raised her chin to look at me. The classic lines and features of her face were made more beautiful by the remorse and anguish there. The emotions erased the mere prettiness of her features and honed them into a timeless, feminine ideal. "Maybe you would have been able to stay."

"Rosalie, you can't take my decisions on yourself."

"I'm not trying to." She turned back to the bench. "It's just, well, Tanya said that having lovers helped with the bloodlust."

Tanya again. Why had I never heard this theory before? I turned to the bike, checking the tire pressure. "Well, my situation is a bit different than Tanya's. But I'm hoping to convince Isabella to let Carlisle turn her. It's going to take some time though," I said thoughtfully, reviewing the obstacles in my head.

I heard the clatter of tools being dropped on the workbench. Behind me, Rosalie huffed, low and feral, "What?"

I suddenly realized that this would be a hard conversation for Rosalie, and maybe my timing hadn't been well thought out. Her thoughts started running rampant, mere flashes of incidents rushing through her mind. There were thoughts of her mistreatment at Royce King's hands and small children laughing and playing in the sunlight.

I felt for her, but still, she should have been ready to accept that I'd found someone I could care for. Wouldn't this be the end to her sudden pangs of guilt? "I mean to turn her and marry her," I said, putting the pressure gauge away.

I heard her intention to spring nanoseconds before the event, just enough time to whirl around as she came at me. We smashed against the motorcycle, sending it crashing to the ground as we landed on it, Rosalie on top of me, the exhaust pipes of the bike bending under the force. I took advantage of my leverage against the garage floor to throw her off me, and she flew across the bay to slam against the tool bench, putting a fearsome dent in the metal work surface and sending tools flying like shrapnel.

"What are you, crazy?" I yelled at her.

She pulled herself from the kneeling position she had landed in and approached me, crouching. "You're going to _turn_ her? You _are_ a monster! A selfish, self-absorbed monster!"

I knew that all too well, but hearing it from her lips only made me angry. I pulled into a defensive crouch, echoing her. "Rosalie, this is my decision," I growled. "You stay out of this."

"Your decision? What about her? Does your selfishness have no boundaries?" She stared at me intently, her anger making her thoughts almost glow red with violence, shuffling from side to side, looking for an opening.

"She'll have a choice," I defended, matching her move for move.

"A choice? A choice like I had?" she hissed, fury contorting her face savagely.

"The situation is entirely different!" I countered.

"How? You're going to _plan_ to take away her humanity?" she demanded.

I couldn't listen to her doubts; they strongly echoed my own misgivings and fears. The fear that was strongest though, was that of having to spend my life alone without Isabella. "She will be mine!" I bellowed. "I will not be denied!"

With a massive roar, she sprang at me again, her manicured nails like claws headed for my throat. I grabbed her arms and together we fell, rolling to the ground, ending with Rosalie struggling on top of me.

I heard Esme's voice. "Jasper! Alice! Grab Rosalie!"

Rosalie's nails ripped across my face, narrowly missing my eyes. I grabbed for her arms, but she was too quick and punched me with her other hand. Slamming my hand against her chin, I pushed her off balance, her head whipping back, when Jasper and Alice yanked her away from me. I jumped to my feet, angry and ready to take it further, when Esme grabbed my shoulders, putting herself between Rosalie and me. "Edward!" she yelled sharply. "Don't!"

Rosalie stood on the other side of the garage, her chest heaving and her hair in disarray, her arms pinned by Alice on one side and Jasper on the other. Her eyes threw daggers at me, and her lip curled with snarling. "Do you know what he's planning to do?" she asked, seething, but allowing Jasper and Alice to restrain her.

"Please take her inside," Esme directed over her shoulder, still holding onto me.

Rosalie shrugged off their hands but walked towards the door to the house. "Look at him and his red eyes. He'll never change." She spat the words at me, glaring. "Monster," she hissed disdainfully as she exited the garage, followed by Jasper and Alice.

Esme took her hands off my shoulders. I turned away from her, shaking my head. The worst part was Rosalie hadn't said anything that wasn't true. Not for the first time or surely the last, I wondered if I really could go through with turning Isabella. I put my hand to my face; it was stinging with the scratches Rosalie had inflicted. Venom glistened wetly on my hand as I pulled it away.

Esme turned to a locker, pulled out a clean cloth and handed it to me.

I dabbed at the scratches on my face. "She's right, you know."

She gently moved my face to one side with her fingers, inspecting my wound. "It's closing up already," she said as I dabbed at it again.

"I am selfish and self-deluded." I winced from the pain of those words as much as the scratches.

Esme's face shone with compassion. "Edward, I can only imagine how hard this is for you," she said. "You're trying to make a huge change in your life, one that won't come easily. The important thing is to keep trying."

She took the cloth from my hand and walked it over to the laundry basket, tossing it in with others. "You have to forgive Rosalie. It's hard for her when you're here. She needs some time to re-adjust."

"Well, it hasn't been much of a party for me either," I said, working my jaw back and forth, checking for stiffness.

"She feels guilty, like she wasn't enough. That's a feeling Rosalie has not had a whole lot of experience with."

"She said as much to me," I said, shaking my head. "I had no idea."

"You've been gone so long. When you show up, it exacerbates it. Then she hears talk about a girl being turned, and well..." Esme shrugged her shoulders.

I knew she was trying to keep the peace in the family, and I had no wish to start a fight with Rosalie. "Really, it's okay."

She studied me a moment longer and then said, "I should go check on her."

"Go. I'm fine," I said, turning to inspect the motorcycle. I wish I could say the same for it.

Esme and Jasper passed in the hall. I heard their conversation through their thoughts.

"_Switch?" asked Esme._

"_Sure thing," said Jasper. "How is he?"_

_"He's calm, some minor scratches. Her?"_

_"She's still stomping around. She took a pretty good whack to the chin, but she's fine."_

Jasper entered the garage and stood beside me as I pulled the bike back up to an upright position.

"She still angry?" I asked.

"Well, you know Rosalie. She hates to waste a good mad. She's gonna ride it for what it's worth." he said, referring to Rosalie's tendency to wallow in anger.

I crouched down next to the bike and tried to use my hands to straighten out the tail pipe, with mixed success. The crease was still pretty evident.

He crouched beside me and whispered conspiratorially, "Can I just say there's been some times when I've wanted to pop her off myself?"

The two of us chuckled softly. "So, how are things going with Bella?" he asked, holding the bike steady while I tried to smooth the crease.

"She's amazing. She's not like anybody I've ever known." I sighed with frustration. "For some reason, I can't hear her thoughts. So of course, there's no one else I would rather hear."

"Always want what you can't have," Jasper chuckled.

"So, what was she like in high school?" I asked.

"I didn't talk to her much. She was pretty quiet. She had to leave during senior year." Jasper's recollections of her were surprisingly few as he shuffled through his memories. She was always in the background, part of a group or by herself, a brown-haired girl, unremarkable to him, but so completely fascinating to me. I wanted to take him by his shoulders and shake his memories out of his ear so I could linger over them.

"Hmm," I said. "I'd heard that she'd left school."

"Rumor was she got pregnant by some Quileute and had to leave."

I knew I had caught a faint whiff of an uncharacteristic scent in her apartment. More than human, I realized now it must be one of the Native American shape shifters. Carlisle had also mentioned that she'd been seeing one of the locals. No, the thought of one of those dark-eyed dogs with his hands on her tender skin did not sit well with me at all. I felt the pressure in my hand, and consciously had to unclench my fist. "She got pregnant?"

"Yeah, had an abortion, but it didn't go well." He frowned, remembering the high school gossip.

I'd seen a scar that would have been appropriate for gynecological surgery. "That must have been hard for her." Pregnancy termination was hard for any woman, but I'd seen her in a Catholic church, and I knew they held abortion as a grievous sin. What an amazing set of contradictions she was. "Hold the bike, will you?" I asked as I went over to the toolbox that hadn't seen any damage. I stepped over some of the scattered tools and pulled a wrench from the drawer. I came back and crouched by Jasper again, trying to make the metal lie smooth and round.

"Was she very religious in school?" I asked. It wouldn't have been the first time a devout Catholic had an abortion, but that kind of hypocrisy didn't seem to fit with my impression of Isabella.

"No, she didn't seem that way." He shook his head. "The only church I think Chief Swan went to was the kind where you needed a fishing pole."

I glanced at him, bewildered.

"He spends his Sunday mornings fishing," he explained, bemused.

I rubbed at the scratches. A little paint would fix those right up. So Isabella had found God after her abortion. I'd heard the devotion in her voice last night and something told me it was more than just guilt, or a close brush with death that had converted her.

"Emmett says she's your singer," he said, studying my face. "That's got to be a problem."

I thought about Isabella and the exquisite fragrance that emanated from her. The feedings of the previous night were beginning to wear off, and I could feel the thirst starting to build at just the thought of her. "It's going to get worse, I'm afraid, a lot worse." I looked over at him; Jasper had a lot of experience in fighting off bloodlust. "Got any tips you care to impart?"

He smiled ruefully. "I may not be the best person to ask. It's a struggle, that's for sure." He gathered his thoughts and then frowned. "Drink as much as you can beforehand, that's really the only thing I have found that's remotely helpful." He looked at me, humor shining from his golden eyes. "And if that don't work, run away. Run away far and fast."

I shook my head, amused by his dry sense of humor. "I'll remember that." I stood up, done with the pipes; it was as good as it was going to get it. You could still see where the metal had been stressed. I sighed with frustration.

I had something else I needed to ask him. "Did you ever hear Tanya's theory about, well, how pairing up reduces the bloodlust?"

"The ladies were talking about this last night," he said, standing up as well, while the memories of an overheard conversation between Alice, Rosalie and Esme floated through his mind.

"What do you think of it?" I asked curiously.

"Violence is a habit," he said, shaking his head. "But non-violence is too." He put his hands on his hips and turned to me, smiling wickedly. "Pairing up, as you so delicately put it, is probably the only thing that _can _take your mind off the bloodlust." He thought about his struggles in the earliest days of joining the family. "Sometimes, just a little bit of respite is all it takes to get you through a bad spot."

I closed my eyes as a sudden vision of Isabella, standing next to me, putting her arms around my neck, stopped me cold with the depth of my need for her.

Jasper fished in his pocket, pulling out some keys. "Alice says you're going to need these." He dropped them into my hand.

I looked at him curiously.

"They're the keys to my Camaro. Alice says it's going to rain." He thrust his hands back into his pockets, smirking and rocking back on his heels; it was his relaxed good ole' boy look. "You know, girls hate getting their hair wet."

That was true, no matter the decade. "Well, thank you." Jasper drove a red Camaro with a white racing stripe; it was sweet. "I should probably hunt. Okay if I take it now?" Without the enticement of Isabella's smell, I wasn't really thirsty and gorging myself on animal blood held little appeal. Still, if it would make her safer, I would do it.

"Sure. I'd head south if I were you. We've been hitting the east pretty heavily."

Together we walked out to the driveway where the car was parked. I got in and turned the key as he closed the car door for me and leaned on the open window.

"You know, I always appreciated what you were doing," he said, running his hand along the metal window trim. I checked his thoughts, and they were full of admiration for the way I'd sought out criminals for feeding. "It seemed to be the right way to use the gifts."

I clenched the steering wheel in my hands. "I thought that way for a long time. But now I can't rationalize it any longer. It's still murder, even if you are removing danger." I looked up at him. "All the good intentions can't take away the fact that you're killing someone because you judged them to be unworthy. Am I really fit to be the judge of that?"

He shrugged. "Well, the world is just better off without some folks around. If God's been in charge of justice, seems like he could use some help."

"He's going to have to get by without my help. I'm tired of listening to lunatics and psychos."

"Just as well you gave them up," he said, straightening up. "You know what they say."

I cocked an eyebrow at him while a sly grin slid across his face.

"You are what you eat."

I couldn't help the smile that broke out on my face. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you later."

"Later then." He tapped on the roof twice in farewell as I pulled the car out. In the rearview mirror, I saw him turn his face and hands to the sky; it had begun to rain.

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A/N Thanks to everyone who have left reviews and support; thank you, thank you.


	15. Chapter 15 Lazarus Rising

**Bella**

"Flowers? You brought me flowers?"

Edward was standing at the door to my apartment with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. It was exactly three-thirty p.m.

"You don't like flowers?" he asked, drawing that ethereal face of his into a frown.

"No, I like them. I'm just… surprised." I took the bouquet from his outstretched hands. There were lilies, daisies and white roses. I dipped my head over them; their smell was enchanting. "Why, they're beautiful…"

His grin seemed to radiate throughout the room. "You like them," he said with the same kind of pride you'd see in a first grader when his mother hangs his drawing on the refrigerator.

"Yes, I really do." I swung the door open wider, holding on to the flowers with one hand and the doorknob with the other, and stepped aside. "Please come in."

He took one step in and stopped in front of me. The difference in our heights meant he had to bow his head to look at me with his wise, sad eyes. The humming of power rolled off him, like the subsonic rumbling of a huge turbine buried in the earth. "It's good to see you," he said softly before stepping into the living room.

There was that scent again. As good as the flowers smelled, they had nothing on him. His breath was cool against my face, and it tingled as I closed the door and followed him into the living room.

The flowers, the courtly attitude, and the conscious, polite diffidence were making me feel like I was being wooed, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. I was nearly bowled over with the sudden certainty that he was indeed romancing me. Although I had been flirting with that idea, it was now real to me, as mind-boggling as it was. _Why me? Didn't they have female counterparts of whatever he is at wherever he came from?_

Each new look from him, every touch seemed to turn the tension higher. It was if a giant key were in my back and each new gesture from him wound it another half-turn until I was becoming stretched tighter and tighter with anticipation. The dream-like state his presence gave me was deep enough to quiet my doubts and my natural skepticism. I wanted to just let whatever was happening between us unfold. It was so thrilling and mysterious, and my life had been sorely without any relief from day to day worries. My heart began thumping wildly at the course my thoughts had taken.

Edward turned toward me, his curious eyes dropping to my chest briefly, then returning to my face. I ignored the heat in my cheeks and headed towards the kitchen. "I'll get these into some water," I said over my shoulder.

I laid the flowers gently on the counter and opened my cabinets. The closest thing I had to a vase was a tall ice tea glass, so I added some water and dropped the flowers in.

I turned to the doorway; he was leaning against the jamb watching me. Almost too handsome for even an actor or a model, his dark rust hair almost artfully disarrayed, he was a poster boy for the khakis and cotton knit shirt he wore. The light blue, short-sleeved shirt was stretched across his chest, hinting at the spectacular definition there, as he leaned against the jamb, his hands in his pockets. The only thing that kept him from being magazine-ready was his eyes. They were an odd shade of brown, and there always seemed to be pain in them. Perhaps it was the pain that kept his perfect looks from being seeming merely shallow or vain.

"Would you like something to drink?" I offered. "I've got water and…" I stepped over to the refrigerator and opened the door. "Orange juice?"

He shook his head, smiling. "No, thank you."

"Well, let me put these in the living room," I said, grabbing the flowers again and brushing past him to the living room. I could almost feel a magnetic pull coming from him as I walked by.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked, pacing the edges of the living room, looking at the small bookcase I had and the few photographs on top of the TV.

"Oh, not long at all," I said, watching him prowl around the room. "Since June." After I had gotten out of the hospital, I hadn't wanted to live in Forks, where I'd be sure to run into Jacob, and I was too proud to have to deal with the pitying looks or the gossip treadmill. Charlie hadn't taken my decision well, but I had set my mind and he'd recognized my determination.

"And you live here by yourself," he confirmed.

"Well, yeah, except for Darcy."

He glanced at me. "Darcy?"

"My cat, she's around here somewhere." I checked through the open door to the bedroom, but she wasn't in her usual place, sleeping on top of my bed. I hadn't had a lot of people over, and it was quite possible she was shy of strangers. "She'll probably wander out later."

"So there's no boyfriend?" he asked intently.

"No." That was rather abrupt, I thought. _Let me turn the tables_. "How about you?"

"Me?" he asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. He started chuckling and shaking his head. "No, no girlfriend. Not for …years."

I looked at him while my mind started wondering again. _Insanely beautiful man? No girlfriend? Unusual abilities, traveled all over. _I was almost back to the angel theory again, and it was making my head hurt.

From the top of the TV set, he picked up a photograph of Charlie and examined it, turning it over once in his hand.

"That's my father. And there's me and my mother in Phoenix," I said, pointing to the larger picture on top.

"She's in Phoenix?" he asked.

I adjusted the flowers a bit. "She was." I separated the baby's breath a bit more, focusing on the arrangement. "She died in March." It still hurt to say that.

"You miss her," he said softly with enough compassionate understanding that it raised a lump in my throat.

"More than I can say," I whispered. There was that familiar ache again, and I tried to swallow it down. If I let it go, I knew it would overwhelm me. I missed her crazy enthusiasm and her irrepressible sense of fun. Although there'd been times when I felt like the parent in the relationship, her death had severed the last ties to my childhood. The warmth and sun of my childhood and of Phoenix were closed to me now; they seemed gone forever, a thing of the past.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's still…" Waving a hand, I headed toward the bathroom for a tissue.

"Don't apologize, Isabella," he said softly as I passed him. "Tears are not wasted. Hold onto your memories."

I grabbed a tissue from the vanity and turned back to him at the bathroom door. His eyes were immensely sad, as if the weight of death had fallen on him. I realized the pain I was holding onto in my chest was the same kind of pain I saw on his face. For a long breathless second, we stared into each other's eyes. I fought back the urge to rush to him, to wrap my arms around him and let him comfort me while I cried for a week.

I didn't know what he was or what he could do, what hidden powers he had, or if he could jump into the air and take off like a rocket. It didn't matter. The same ache and loneliness that had been haunting me was echoed in his face, and I felt a connection to him that reached out and enveloped me like a parent's hand around the fist of their newborn. I couldn't doubt that he'd been sent to me; we were clicking together like magnets.

I gasped softly and my heart started to race with the realization that there was something so fundamental and undeniable between us. In his eyes, I saw that he felt the connection, too, and the tension in the room grew thick as I wrestled with the desire to step forward and touch him.

I had to break it, he was entirely too still. I dropped my eyes and turned, dabbing at my eyes once more. "Church," I said to myself, inhaling deeply before turning back to him. "Should we get started?" I asked.

"Sure."

"The church is really just up the street a bit and around the corner. Why don't we walk?" I was a bit more prepared for our later trip to Forks this time; I'd worn jeans, foreseeing another motorcycle ride.

"Alright," he said.

I grabbed my key, rosary and wallet, and we stepped to the foyer. "I wonder if I should bring my raincoat," I said, peering out the window.

"Alice says it won't rain again until after dark," he said absentmindedly, looking out the window with me.

I turned to him, curious. His face was mere inches away. Even if I'd had my eyes closed, I would have known he was standing next to me. The sheer energy of his presence was like a force field that I could feel on my skin. "Alice. Your sister. She's a meteorologist now?" His skin was so flawless and smooth, just a hint of shadow where his beard would come in. His lips were full and sensual, slightly parted and so incredibly kissable. Was it so wrong of me to want to reach forward with my hand to trace those lips with a finger?

He chuckled, shaking his head and pulling me out my reverie. "No, she's just very good at predicting those kinds of things."

"Okay," I said, puzzled but I left my jacket hanging on the hook as we headed out the door. To my surprise there was a red Camaro in the driveway. "Is that yours?"

"No, Jasper let me borrow it."

I eyed it as we walked past. "Nice ride." I was almost disappointed the motorcycle wasn't there.

"Well, the bike isn't as much fun when it rains," he said, smiling. I was really getting to know that smile. It thrilled me every time I saw it.

We walked for a while and I noticed he seemed much looser and relaxed today, so I edged into some of the questions that were haunting me. "So, where do you usually go to church?" I asked as we set out walking along the sidewalk.

"I usually don't go anywhere." He shrugged his shoulders, his long legs taking one step for every two of mine. "I haven't been in a church for over forty years now," he admitted offhandedly. He leaned over and whispered to me. "I'm really only going because you'll be there."

I ignored the indirect compliment; the math I was doing in my head refused to add up. "You haven't been in a church in forty years?"

He turned to where I was halted. That guarded look returned to his eyes. "Did I say forty? I must have meant four."

I shook my head. "No, you said forty."

He turned and put his hands in his pockets, frowning a bit. He looked down at the ground and then back at me, like he was assessing what to tell me.

There were a lot of things I could deal with, but being lied to wasn't one of them. "Edward, you don't have to tell me everything, but don't tell me lies," I pleaded. _At least let there be truth between us. _

He looked at me from under his eyebrows. "I want to tell you, but I don't want to scare you."

"Is there stuff that will scare me?" I asked softly, my pulse beginning to race.

He nodded solemnly while I concentrated on not suddenly jerking with the rush of adrenaline that flooded through me.

He briefly glanced at my chest again as my heart set to racing. _Sweet Mary, he can hear my heart beat._

"Please don't be afraid of me," he pleaded. "I would never want to hurt you."

That was the second time he had used that phrasing. "You don't _want _to hurt me," I said slowly, pulling my thoughts together out loud. "But you're afraid you might?"

"I am dangerous to you, Isabella, in many different ways," he said, so softly I had to strain to hear him. His eyes were slicing right through me.

I'd known it; I had felt it. There was something inherently dangerous about him, and my breath caught in my throat as I realized the subconscious feelings I'd had were indeed founded. Still, I believed him wholeheartedly when he said he didn't want to hurt me, and it was that part that I clung to. "You've saved me. You have healed me. There may be less danger than you realize."

His face betrayed a hint of surprise. "What I want is so outlandishly selfish…"

"Perhaps you can tell me what it is you want and let me be the judge of that." I said this so calmly, I even surprised myself.

But he was shaking his head as the Davidson kids came rushing up the sidewalk, Crystal on her Big Wheels and her older brother, Trevor, on his scooter. "Hey, Bella," Trevor yelled as we stepped out of their way.

"Hi Crystal, Trevor," I called back but they were already past us.

I glanced up at Edward, hoping that we could continue this line of conversation but the moment for raw honesty had passed, and he had already started walking down the sidewalk, his pace smooth but slow, as if he had to concentrate deliberately on holding back. I trotted the few steps to catch up with him.

"So, how long have you been going to this church?" he asked, obviously through with me asking the questions. He took long, slow strides, like he was gliding down the sidewalk. His hands were thrust in his pockets, and he carried his shoulders slightly hunched, as though he was trying to make himself look less tall, less imposing than he was.

"Since June, but I've known Father Brian a bit longer than that." I took a deep breath. If I demanded honesty from him, I should be willing to give it myself. "I really only joined the Church in May."

He raised his elegant eyebrows at me, encouraging me to go on.

"I'd never been a part of the church before. Any church. My parents hadn't even had me baptized." Renee was too much of a New Age kind of mother to do something so tragically suburban as a baptism. I had gone to Hindu ashrams and Navajo sweat lodges, but never a real church. I'd finally been baptized by Father Brian in the hospital.

I stopped automatically at the curb to check for traffic, but he stepped off without hesitation, so I followed his lead. "What changed for you?" he asked.

"I had a lot of bad things kind of happen to me all at once," I said, frowning at the street passing beneath our feet. "But it was more than that, really, so much more. It probably sounds corny, but it was a search for some meaning, some structure." I glanced over at him, wondering if, like most of my peers, he couldn't understand the depth of my new beliefs, or if he was here in some way to validate them. We stepped back onto the sidewalk. "Life has got to be about more than just getting by from day to day. Does that make any sense?"

He nodded, glancing at me. "Perfectly. A search for meaning is the sign of a sophisticated soul."

"Sophisticated?" I chuckled. "Not me. I'm just trying to connect with something...larger."

I took a deep breath. For some reason, I wanted to share this with him, something I had never told anyone. I glanced up at his face, reassured by the acceptance I saw there. "There's a feeling I get when I'm in church, it's almost addicting."

"And that is?"

I took a deep breath. "Like I'm dissolving. Losing myself in God. Letting my soul flow 'into the mystic.'"

He nodded. "An Apollonian ecstasy."

"Pardon?" I asked, uncomprehending his reference.

"Apollonian versus Dionysian." He glanced at me, but I still didn't recognize what he was talking about. "It was a popular anthropology concept some years ago. That the mystic who lays unmoving, prostrate before the altar, communing with Christ, is in as deep a frenzied celebration as the exuberant, intoxicated reveler at a Bacchanalia festival."

I nodded. "Yes, I see. The commonality of both reaching for their God."

His face was somber and lined with pain again. "Reaching for God, yes."

The bells of the church, which was now just across the corner, began to chime. "It's four o'clock. We should hurry," I said as we trotted across the street and up the stone steps of the church.

He pulled open the large wooden door and we entered the hushed vestibule. The organ had started, and I dipped a finger in the bowl of holy water and blessed myself. He watched, but didn't follow my example and lightly touched my waist as we started up the aisle. The afternoon sun must have found a hole in the clouds and now it was streaming through the western stained glass windows, raining droplets of color across the nave. The lingering smell of incense, the deep, full chords of the hall organ and the wide soaring arches of the church were home to me, and I could feel myself relax as we approached the altar. I glanced back at him, and he smiled encouragingly at me. This was the first time I had brought anyone I knew to my church, and I was wondering at his reaction. This Mass was sparsely attended, and as we conspicuously walked towards my usual pew, a few of the neighborhood ladies craned their necks to see whom I had brought.

I genuflected before entering 'my' pew and then scooted across, Edward following behind me and copying my actions. The entrance processional began, and I was happy to see Father Brian. He stepped to the altar and began the litany I had etched on my heart_: In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Ghost._ I exhaled deeply and let the familiar sounds and recitations calm me and center me.

I stole glances at Edward throughout the service, his face calm, but focused, like he was listening to a conversation beyond my hearing. He looked like he belonged in church, but up there on the windows or in the Saint's niches rather than down here in the pews. I noticed how he sat forward when Father Brian began his homily on the nature of forgiveness. He didn't approach the altar with me as I went for communion, but I peeked at his face as I settled back into the pew afterwards, and he was watching me intently, a half smile on his face.

We sat for a minute after the service had ended, and the celebrants had departed down the aisle to greet the congregants at the door.

"So, what did you think?" I asked, putting the hymnal back in its spot.

He turned to me, his eyes soft and glowing. "I thought you were beautiful before," he said, running the back of his cool finger along my cheek, "but I hadn't seen you praying."

He had the perverse ability to take my breath away with his words, his touch, his looks. It effectively ended my ability to converse, so I bent my head and looked around the pew to see if there was anything I needed to bring with me. Around us, the small congregation was filing out of the pews.

He leaned over and whispered to me. "When you blush like that, it becomes the only thing I can see."

I glanced at him from behind my hair, before clasping my hands between my knees. "You know you only make it worse when you comment on it," I said, trying to sound lighthearted.

"I know. It's too marvelous to resist, though," he said softly with an intensity that made my heart stutter

_They're going to have to give me a pacemaker._ "I'm glad I can keep you amused," I said wryly.

"Oh, you do much more that that." His face was smiling, his eyes were soft, and unless I moved, I was going to melt under the force of that gaze like an ice cube in the sun.

"Well, we should go," I said, standing.

He nodded and stood, turning toward the end of the pew. I expected him to lead us out, but instead he was staring at stained glass window that had been behind where we sat. "That window. That's…?"

In it, Jesus was portrayed extending a hand down to a man half-lying on the ground. "That's when Christ brought Lazarus back from the dead," I explained.

He shook his head in seeming disbelief. "It was a miracle, of course," he murmured, before sliding out the aisle and waiting for me so we could leave together. He glanced back once more at the window as we went down the aisle to where the grey light of the overcast afternoon flooded the vestibule doors with a hazy glow.

Father Brian was at the door as we exited the church. "Hello, Bella," he greeted me, shaking my hand. "I see you brought a friend," he said, eying Edward curiously.

"Father Brian, this is Edward Cullen," I said as Edward stepped forward to shake his hand, murmuring, "Hello, sir." Behind us, the last of the church goers headed down the steps.

He shook Edward's hand, while smiling at me. "Edward, hmm?" He raised his eyebrow at me in bemused speculation and I recalled that I had told him I'd seen an angel named Edward. I guess I had to admit he wasn't an angel, after all.

"Same guy, different affiliation," I tried to explain while Edward stepped back and put an arm around my waist, a move that surprised me.

"Well, we always enjoy new faces. Glad you could accompany Bella." Father Brian smiled paternally at us as the Monsignor joined the group of us standing on the steps. "Are you from the area?" Father Brian asked Edward.

"My family lives in Forks, like Isabella's," he said respectfully. "That was an interesting homily."

"Did you like that? We must find some time to chat, if you'd like. Forgiveness is at the core of our faith." Father Brian turned to the Monsignor, who looked ancient and petite between the two younger and taller men. "Sergio, you must meet Bella's friend, Edward. This is Monsignor Corvi."

"Edward Cullen," Edward said as he extended his hand to the Monsignor.

The two of them shook hands, Edward and the Monsignor, and suddenly froze, as they looked into each other's eyes. The world seemed stopped in that moment; even the sounds of the birds and city traffic hung suspended. Father Brian and I exchanged an uneasy glance while the two of them seemed locked into motionlessness, for what reason I couldn't possibly have said. There came an impossibly low, almost subsonic rumbling from Edward's chest, and the Monsignor blanched palely. The Monsignor awoke first, quickly dropped his hand and took a step backwards. "I must go," he said inexplicably, and turning, almost fled from where we stood. "I'll need to speak with you later, Brian," he called over his shoulder.

Father Brian called to him, "I'll be here." He turned back to us, as puzzled by the Monsignor's behavior as I was. Edward's face, always pale, was even paler, and his eyes had turned flat and fierce. The tiger was pacing his cage again.

I felt the slightest pressure from Edward's hand on my shoulders. "Thank you, Father. Have a good afternoon."

"Go in peace," Father Brian said, smiling as he turned back to the church.

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Now here's the part where I pray that the readers will review...


	16. Chapter 16 Raven's Reflection

_The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story._ –Ursula LeGuin

Thank you to my readers who, in envisioning it, bring this story alive.

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**Edward**

Vampires don't suffer from hallucinations. Psychopaths and sociopaths are fairly common personality types among vampires. Living murderously on the fringes of society will do that to a creature. But perceptual delusions are never heard of among my kind.

I had no reason or explanation for the very real visual perception of movement that I had seen the in Lazarus window. In it Christ had been frozen, extending his hand to the body of Lazarus who lay supported on the knees of his sister, their robes done in the brilliant hues of obsidian, ruby and emerald green. There was no explanation at all for the way I had seen Lazarus sit up, look at me with blazing red eyes and start to shake his head in an unmistakable gesture of denial.

It was impossible. I didn't accept the impossible. If you had told me that it would be impossible for me to escort my singer—the woman whose blood called to me like a mother's breast to a baby—to church, then I might have agreed with you. But having done just that, I was so grateful that I'd been able to see Isabella in devotion, I'd been tempted to offer a prayer of thanksgiving. The sight of her kneeling, her face transfixed in prayer took my breath away. With her head bowed, on her knees, hands clasped in the classic posture, she had seemed almost translucent. So clear, so pure, it was as if I could see right through her to the beating crystalline heart within her and the light that seemed to flow outwards from her soul like a wave of pure joy.

It left me with the question, though—what was Lazarus in the window? A warning? A prank by God? A bubble from my subconscious? I didn't know, and even if I had, I would have continued on the same pre-destined course, as determined as a ball sliding along in a groove. What was I, but just a dark creature unloved by heaven, cast aside because I had no immortal soul. Immortal life, perhaps—until some other, stronger vampire decided I offended his existence—but immortal soul, no. If Heaven wanted to fight me for Isabella, then game on. I would wrestle Christ himself for her.

I had sat in the church, watching Isabella with the same kind of adoration I had seen in her face as she worshipped. And as I sat there, listening to the minds around me, I realized how little people had changed for all their technological advances. Yes, they could talk to each other across the globe and go to the moon, but old women still worried about their sons and daughters, old men still tried to find a warm place to sit and the young lived lives of oblivion. I could imagine Carlisle here; it was a place that welcomed contemplative introspection, and I knew he still felt a connection with God.

I was actually impressed and moved by Father Brian. Passion had always been an attraction for me, whether it was the painter who stayed in the studio all night consumed by a line of color or the rock guitarist looking for the perfect riff, playing until his fingers bled. Father Brian had that kind of passion; he actually loved Christ and the idea of Christ in a way that was exceedingly rare even in organized religion. He also felt protective of Isabella. I understood that; she certainly seemed too vulnerable to live in this world, but I would be her protector now.

Monsignor Corvi, on the other hand, was a raven of darkness as he was so aptly named. He'd recognized my name, from where I hadn't been able to tell, and when he shook my hand, it had brought back memories to him of another cold, hard hand. A hand in Italy, a long black robe, a countenance of fear about which he still had nightmares. He knew a secret, dark and terrifying to him, which he tried to thrust away from himself in denial. I would have liked to have learned more, but he had dashed away too rapidly before my attention was called elsewhere. Humans were predictably fond of denial—our existence wouldn't have been possible otherwise—but it was a situation I would have to monitor closely.

It was harder today—definitely harder to ignore the scent that rose from Isabella like a call to action. It was so incredibly heady that I had to guard myself constantly; otherwise I would find myself leaning over towards her, staring at her pulse point, listening to the blood racing through her veins. The animal blood I'd forced myself to drink earlier hadn't helped at all. The compelling bloodlust scared me because I didn't know how much longer I would have before being in Isabella's presence was too much for me. If I couldn't resist the bloodlust longer than a few weeks out among thugs and murderers, how long could I ignore the siren's song of Isabella's blood? What was I going to do then? Would I give up seeing Isabella or take the chance that I had some kind of freakish control simply because I cared for the girl? I had no false pretensions about my control; if ever I should allow myself a full draught of her blood, the frenzy that would follow meant only one outcome. Her broken, drained body lying in my hands.

She was more relaxed today after church. Perhaps it had been the meditative pace of the Mass, or she had started to come to terms with the mystery of my existence, but she seemed looser and more ready to smile and laugh. We headed back to the Camaro parked at her house and started for Forks. I would have just enough time to drop her off at her home in Forks before dusk would call me to my litany. That was the real litany of my life, not some call to prayer inside a brick building.

We'd gotten out of the city and were on 101 toward Forks when I asked if she'd like some music.

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. This isn't my car. Perhaps the radio?"

"Sure."

I turned it on and tuned it to a station that I knew played some interesting alternative selections. I asked her what kind of music she liked, and we discussed favorites for a while. We both had wide, eclectic tastes; like myself, genre wasn't as important as excellence. Her penchant for punk rock did set me back.

"But punk rock? Really?" I asked because I could not find any redeeming qualities in music where tuning, musicianship or melody were irrelevant.

"You have to listen to the Clash or the Ramones, really listen. There is passion and wit, real emotion, raw, uncensored." She smiled at me mischievously. "I know it's not what you were expecting."

"You are really very little of what I was expecting." I leaned over and smiled at her. Her eyes were glowing and her skin was radiant.

"You've been like nothing I expected at all," she said, shaking her head unbelievingly. She took a deep breath. "So you liked the homily?" she asked, referring to the Father Brian's sermon on forgiveness.

"Yes, it was interesting."

"It's part of what drew me to this church. I think it's so true what Father Brian had to say about forgiveness. It's important to forgive people, not for their sakes, but for yours."

"But what if they don't deserve forgiveness?"

Her face grew somber quickly. "None of us deserve it. But that's where the miracle is. Because it's offered to all of us."

_All of us? No, not all of us._ "Redemption is possible, for even the worst offenders? But how can we know who will take it and who will continue to murder or worse?" This here was the crux of my own burgeoning conscience.

"You're right, we can't. That's God's job. He knows their hearts, their thoughts."

I shook my head. "Well, it must be in their hearts because I know it's not in their thoughts."

She looked at me oddly. "You know it's not in their thoughts?"

Not for the first time I realized that I had spoken more than I had intended. It was just so hard to stay guarded around Isabella; I wanted to tell her everything and anything. I wanted to make her coo with delight and sigh with amazement. I wanted the intimacy of lovers, all the various kinds of intimacy. A very real part of me wanted to make her moan with pleasure. That part and the bloodlust were eager to be let loose. But she was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

I took a deep breath and dove in. "There are things that make me different."

"Different how? And from who?"

She said this calmly and matter-of-factly, but I could hear her heart speed up. I wrestled with how to tell her more of what I was without scaring her. "Different from other people." I looked over at her. I smiled, deciding to keep this light. "I can hear people."

"So can I," she said, her eyes twinkling.

I chuckled. I never knew what to expect from her. "No, I can hear their thoughts."

She looked at me in obvious disbelief. "Okay, so what am I thinking?"

"I don't know. You're the one person I can't hear," I admitted. "You have no idea how frustrating that is."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that sounds just a little bit conve-e-e-nient," she said, stretching out the middle syllable, still smiling.

"Okay." I thought back to the church service. "Anne Geary was sitting behind us in church. She remembers you from when you first came to the church. She was on the welcoming committee that visited you. She's worried about her daughter who's in Afghanistan. It's been six days since she's heard from her."

She was looking at me with her mouth open.

"Joseph Keller was in front of us to the right. He thinks you look like his deceased sister. He prays for his wife, whom he visits regularly in the nursing home, but she has Alzheimer's and doesn't recognize him. He prays for her death, that she be released from her pain, and hates himself for doing so."

"What are you?" she whispered. I worried I had really scared her.

"I think the word is telepath." Not the answer she was probably looking for, but an answer nonetheless. I glanced over at her. She was leaning away from me, her eyes wide. I couldn't tell whether she was surprised or scared. I waited impatiently for her reaction, fascinated and frustrated by my inability to predict what she would say next.

She cocked her head to one side. "Are the others like you?" Again, an unexpected reaction.

"Others?" I asked, unsure of what she meant.

"Your family," she answered.

"Oh, no," I smiled my most non-fearsome, friendliest smile or so I hoped. "No, I am rather unique in that regard."

"I bet you are," she said, her eyes still wide. She looked down at her feet. "I bet you clean up at poker."

That did it. I started laughing and she glanced nervously at me before starting to laugh too.

"Remind me never to play poker with you," I said teasingly. "You'd probably clean me out."

"You should be worried. I'm pretty good at it," she admitted.

"A fine church-going person like yourself? I'm surprised." _Keep it light, she seems to be dealing well. _

"I used to play all the time with the Quileutes back on the rez in Forks. We had a regular game going."

Her boyfriend—her ex boyfriend, I reminded myself—was a Quileute. I tamped down the jealousy that rose like a black cloud and threatened to choke me, determined to keep our conversation easy and upbeat. "But you moved to the big city? Small town life too dull?"

"That and the gossiping." She shook her head at some bad memory. "I needed to make a clean break."

"So community college is next for you?" I asked, remembering the answer, but trying to draw her out as I could see she had lapsed into introspection.

She was quiet for a moment, but then her brows drew together. "So you can hear what people think?"

"Yes," I admitted. "It's not what you might think, though. I try to block most of it out." I looked over at her to smile. "Too much information, if you know what I mean."

That brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. "Too much information, right." She turned in her seat toward me. "This is another one of those superpowers, right? Like the speed and strength?"

_Uh oh._ I think I could see where her mind was headed. First angel, now superhero? "Well, I don't know if superpower is the right word."

"Why not? Extraordinary abilities—you said you were in crime prevention. Do you have a special name?"

"Special name?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said animatedly, latching onto the idea. "You know, like Superguy or Captain Speed?"

I started laughing, shaking my head. "No."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. I won't say anything," she promised as I continued chuckling. "How about Blitzkrieg or Motorcycle Man or…"

"No, no," I protested, laughing. "I am most definitely not a superhero. Really."

She sat back against the seat, stymied. "Well, it was a good theory."

"A wonderful theory, but wrong," I told her. I had really told her way too much too soon. I hadn't recognized that she would be quite so insistent on figuring things out, and I could see her mind working on the problem.

I asked her about superheroes to lead her away from thoughts of me. That led us to discussing television shows and the conversation moved easily enough that it was all too soon before I came to her father's house in Forks.

I turned into the driveway and put the car into neutral. "What time shall I pick you up?"

"Ten o'clock? That won't be too late for you?"

"No," I smiled. "That won't be too late."

"Have fun with your family," she said, smiling.

I leaned over and across her to open the door for her. Her heart had been beating steadily until I had done so. But as I extended my arm so close to her, I could feel the heat radiating from her like a sun lamp, and her heart suddenly skipped a beat. I looked into her eyes, and her smile widened. It made me smile as well; she looked beautiful in the reflected glow of the setting sun on the horizon, as it peeked through the rain clouds in the west. It was a smile full or promise, of hope, of a relationship ready to blossom, and I could have dropped to my knees to worship her for the way she was making me feel.

"You have fun, too."

"See you later, then," she said and hopped lightly out of the car. Gently, she closed the car door and turned to enter the house.

I watched until she entered the house and then drove quickly back towards home. Parking the car, I listened for a moment before heading out to the meadow. Emmett was home working on something that had his mind full of processor speeds and v-chips, but the others were gone.

I was out to the meadow just as the sun was disappearing behind the tree line, sending the bottoms of the heavy clouds above into paroxysms of gold and orange. I composed myself and started through the litany of my sins.

_William Bubier _

_LenDale White _

_Charles Peetes _

_Lauren Proskow _

_Hector Belendez _

_Trevayne Windsor _

_Qi Shu_

_Shelby Castor _

_Genly Ai_

_Corbin Dallas_

_Maudette Perkins_

For once, I had trouble focusing on the litany. Usually they rolled across my mind as clear and as vivid as the solemn tolling of a church bell, but today, I kept finding myself revisiting the time I had spent with Isabella and the various bits of our conversations.

Redemption. Had any of those in my litany been redeemable? How much had I taken from them? In taking the chance of redemption away from them, had I just stolen it away from myself?

Each one of those names had a crime associated with it and I knew each one. Would heaven have extended the hand of forgiveness to them? I'd forced an early Judgment on their souls, but they at least had a judgment.

I returned to the house, my earlier upbeat mood had now turned pensive. I found Emmett sitting on the floor in the media room, several Wii consoles and computer bits scattered around him.

"Hey, Edward." He looked up from working on the motherboard in his lap. His huge hands held the tiny screwdriver with the same delicacy of a seamstress with a sewing needle.

"Hello," I said cautiously, looking around. "Video games?"

He grinned. "Trying to ramp these babies up to vampire speed. Make it a challenge."

I watched him work for a moment, when I heard it coming.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, half grinning. "I heard you and Rose went at it."

I relaxed infinitesimally; he was being good-natured about the fight. "She started it."

"Heard that, too. My Rose, she's a pistol, all right."

"Pistol, that's her." I had several other terms in mind, but discretion seemed like a good idea.

He climbed from the floor and started pulling out wires from the tool box he had on the floor. Looking back at me, he added, "Of course, if she were ever to get injured by you, I would have to lay a real good hurting on you." He smiled at me to soften the words, but there was a certain amount of steeliness in his eyes.

"Well, tell your cat to keep her claws in," I said, rubbing at my face and the memory of the scratches she'd given me.

"Ha! I'll do that." He laid the wires next to him and pointed to a small box behind me. "Hand me that, will you?"

I handed it to him and he opened the box to a small chip inside. Crouching next to him, I watched him concentrate on his work, a small soldering iron in his hand sending up wisps of smoke.

He looked up. "So, things have been working out for you and Bella?"

"So far. I went with her to church," I admitted.

"You? In church?" He barked a laugh. "You're not starting to believe that angel theory, are you?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes, but then got serious. I tried to use my telepathy to keep a look out for the family when I could. "The monsignor there recognized my name."

"Hmmm," Emmett murmured, bent over his work.

"I couldn't say for sure, but he may have known what I was," I said, worrying at the problem.

"Monsignor, huh? Catholic church, right?" he asked, not looking up.

"Yes," I conceded.

He turned the board over in his hands. "Carlisle pretty much has us stay away from the Catholic Church. Says it's riddled with Volturi spies."

"You're kidding me," I said in disbelief.

"Believe it." He glanced at me. "Makes sense, though. The Vatican is right around the corner from Volterra. They flow in and out of there like air. It's got a great ready-made organization that they can just piggy-back on. The Volturi like to keep tabs on the competition, any competition." He looked meaningfully at me. "Be careful going around there."

I nodded in agreement. "I will." Was that the secret the Monsignor was trying to forget? I was certain now that he'd seen vampires before, there had been a flare of recognition in his mind beyond that of my name. What he would gain from information on me, I couldn't imagine. The Volturi certainly knew where to find Carlisle and the Cullens, if they wanted us.

He cocked his head to one side. "I must admit you've got me confused. Last I saw you, you were on your way to kill Bella."

I got up and walked over to the window. "I know. You have no idea how confused I am myself."

He put the soldering gun down and picked up another screwdriver. "How have you been able to resist her?" he said, trying to avoid the intimation of violence.

"Well, just being fed has been helping." I turned to him. "That's not going to last for long."

"And then what?" he asked.

"I don't know," I whispered, turning back to the window. "I know this, though. I want her. I want her with me, on whatever terms she'll take. Red-eyed, gold-eyed, it won't matter as long as she's there."

"Red-eyed, gold eyed, it _will_ matter, you know."

"Not as much as not having her."

"So, you're definitely are going to turn her? I'm surprised."

"Well, I couldn't do it myself, but that's the general intent."

Emmett shook his head. "You're the last one I'd thought to be interested in making new vampires."

"I have hated myself for so long and I've wasted years running around this earth looking for…I don't even know what. But the answer is there, in her eyes. With her, all things are possible. Without her, nothing is."

I didn't have to turn to see myself in Emmett's eyes. He was thinking how haunted I looked, and he felt for me. But he couldn't know the depths that I had seen. He'd had Rosalie from the beginning; he'd never spent years alone wandering like a nomad.

"So, what's your plan?" he asked.

I grimaced. "Try to make her like me, I guess."

He looked appraisingly at me. "Not an impossible task, I suppose. Course, it would help if you were as good looking as me."

I snorted. "In your dreams."

"Well, you can help me try this out," he said, standing up. "Grab a controller."

I had to admit, he'd finally made a challenge out of a video game. The play was fast and furious. But the clock on the wall seemed to circle torturously slow as I bided my time until I would see Isabella again.

* * *

A/N Edward paraphrases a quote from Saint Francis de Sales, discoursing on Mary. "With her, everything is possible; without her, nothing succeeds."

Next chapter will include the first kiss. (I know! Finally!)

Leave a review and I dance at my computer. (Be grateful I don't have a webcam.)


	17. Chapter 17 Burning

A special shout out to GinnyW-thank you, darling lady. The best gifts are the unexpected ones.

Have I thanked hellacullen and Poo235 recently? They certainly deserve it!

Please come and check out the twilighted thread. I am having huge fail in answering my reviews, so it is the best place to ask me a question. I post teasers and hints there as well. http://www .twilighted .net/forum/viewtopic .php?f=33&t=6149

Everyone who is leaving me reviews-thank you! Believe me I am reading and considering every one, but I cannot answer them all without delaying chapters and I am guessing that's what you'd rather have. But thank you, thank you!

A Litany at Dusk has been nominated in the Moonlight Awards for best Darkward and Best Vampire Story. http: //themoonlightawards .yolasite .com/vote .php

Its also been nominated for Best Supernatural in the Silent Tear Awards. http:// silent-tear-awards .webs .com/nominees .htm

* * *

**Bella**

I was sitting in the living room with my father when through the window I saw the headlights of a car as it pulled into the driveway. It had seemed like a hundred other nights before it; Charlie sat in his recliner and me on the sofa, the floor lamp between us casting a yellow glow around the room while the announcers on TV discussed the various strengths and faults of the ballplayers. The pita pat of rain on the window was as familiar as the sound of Charlie sipping at his beer. It _was_ like a hundred other nights, except this time I waited for a Camaro driven by the mystery of a lifetime.

"That's my ride," I said, getting up from my seat.

Charlie frowned as he peered through the open blinds. "Isn't he going to come in and introduce himself?"

"Dad, I just met him," I protested. "It's not that kind of thing." _Not yet, anyway._

"Well, I don't feel right just letting you go back to the city with any old stranger," he said crossly, starting to rise from his seat.

"He's not a stranger," I reminded him. I'd already told him this once. "He's one of Dr. Cullen's kids."

"Foster kid, huh?" he grumbled. "Do I know him?"

"Probably not. He's been traveling."

"How old is he?" Charlie asked as I picked up the bag of books I was bringing back to my apartment.

I turned to look solemnly at my father. "Aren't I getting a little too old for the third degree?"

"You're never too old for your father to stop worrying about," he said, smiling.

"I don't know how old he is," I said as I peered into the bag, hoping I'd remembered everything I wanted to bring. "He looks to be my age." _That was the truth, right?_

I heard the knock on the front door, and Charlie followed me to it. I turned around and gave him a chastening look before turning the knob. "Behave," I warned him.

He shrugged like he couldn't possibly know what I was talking about. I opened the door and Edward stood on the porch, hopelessly handsome in a light-colored jacket with the collar artfully turned up. He had his hands in his pockets, and his mouth curled in the ghost of a smile as his eyes took me in first before flicking to my father. In the yellow glow of the porch light, raindrops glinted in his hair like crystals. The rain dripped from the porch roof in flashing streams behind him.

How could people possibly not recognize the otherworldliness in him? It was as if a blazing archangel descended from heaven with outstretched wings and nobody took notice. He passed through the world like an unseen breeze, while around him the blind masses stared right through him. I wanted to shout, _Don't you see?_

I stepped out the screen door. "I'll call you tomorrow, Dad."

Charlie followed me and the door. "Geez, it's pouring out there. Wait a minute." He stepped behind the door and came out with a rain jacket of his. "Put this on," he said, holding it out to me. "You can bring it back later."

I sighed in frustration as Edward stepped forward, pulling the bag of books out of my arms, murmuring, "Let me take those."

Charlie held the jacket as I shrugged it on. Both Dad and Edward were looking expectantly at me, so I gave in to the inevitable. "Edward, this is my father. Dad, Edward Cullen."

Edward shifted the bag to his left hand and held out his right. "Nice to meet you."

"Edward," Dad said in acknowledgement, shaking his hand. "Thanks for bringing my daughter to visit."

"It's been my pleasure," Edward said, looking down at me and smiling.

"So you're one of Dr. Cullen's kids?" Charlie asked.

_That's enough of that._ "Goodnight, Dad. I'll call you."

"Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, sir," Edward said, but my dad was already closing the door.

"Excuse my father. He's a bit nosy," I apologized as we walked out to the car.

"Well, he should be. He doesn't know who I am. If I were him, I wouldn't have let you go." He opened the passenger door for me. That was something Jake had never done. I didn't know whether to be flattered because, truth be told, it made me feel rather feminine, yet some part of me scoffed that I could open my own darn door. These were just internal musings, though. I just got in the car and he closed the door gently after me, then came around the other side, putting the bag in the back and getting behind the wheel.

"Did you have a good visit?" he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

"Yes. I like to come by and cook for him once a week. I make extras so he has leftovers. Otherwise, he'd eat out every night."

"That's thoughtful of you."

"It's just me and him now. He's got two maiden aunts in Portland, but we never hear from them except for a Christmas card."

"And your mother's family?"

"My grandfather lives in Scottsdale with his wife, but I never see them. Same with my uncle in New Mexico. What about you?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Me? The Cullens are my family now," he said with finality.

We were headed down Route 101 when he turned on the music. I checked the music controls; it was a CD playing.

From the speakers came the opening power chords of The Clash's _Should I Stay Or Should I Go. _I stared incredulously at him. "I thought you didn't like this music."

He started grinning, pleased with his surprise. "Well, if you like it, I thought I should give it another try."

"Well, darn straight. This is great stuff." I wasn't much for singing, but this song especially didn't require much melodic ability. "_Darling, you got to let me know. Should I stay or should I go_?"

The windshield wipers moved in rhythm with the song. The night was dark and the road shone, a black satin ribbon in the rain, as we sped along in the car. Edward looked over at me, smiling as the song moved into the chorus. I felt lighter than I had in a long time, almost as if, had I not been wearing a seat belt, I would have floated upwards to rest against the car ceiling like a helium balloon. Edward was relaxed and easy, and the ride back to the city passed quickly.

The rain had let up, and we were almost at the corner of my street when we saw the flashing red lights of emergency vehicles bouncing off the houses. At the entrance to my street, there was a fireman in a black and yellow jacket, waving cars away. Edward pulled the car up and rolled my window down as the fireman approached our car.

"What's going on?" Edward bent so he could see through my window.

"House fire," the fireman answered, approaching the car on the passenger side. "You can't go down here."

I grabbed the edge of the window. "This is my road. I live here."

"I'm sorry, miss. You'll have to park and walk home for now. I suggest the next street over."

"What house is it?" I asked, trying to crane my head down the street where I saw flashing lights and several large fire trucks parked at angles in the middle of the street.

"Three forty-two," he answered. He glanced at the car behind us, and stepping back, waved us forward.

I turned to Edward as I felt my hollow stomach drop to my feet. "That's the Davidsons' house."

He pulled the car back into the street and glanced at me without comprehension on his face.

"Crystal and Trevor. The kids we passed on the way to church this afternoon." I had to stop and take a breath; I felt like I'd been kicked and was having trouble getting my lungs full. "They live there with their mother and baby sister."

Edward's eyebrows furrowed as he recognized how upset I was becoming. "We'll park and then go." He reached over for my hand. "It'll be okay, Isabella."

"Oh, I hope so." I had baby-sat one afternoon for those kids. Crystal was five and excited about starting kindergarten this year. Trevor was eight and big on Game Boy. The baby, Tamara, was just starting to walk. Unconsciously, my hand clutched at the cross pendant I wore on the chain around my neck.

I jumped out of the car as soon as Edward pulled to the curb and started running back to my street. Edward was beside me almost instantly, matching me stride for stride. We turned the corner onto my street, and I saw clusters of people standing in the street and on the nearby lawns, watching as the firemen turned a hose on the house, roiling heavy smoke and flames starting to lick out of a second story window.

I'd never seen a house fire except on TV and it was so much more intense and somehow scarier than I'd anticipated. These were real people I knew, not just some image on a screen. The swirling red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles reflected off the houses like a demonic disco ball amid the darkness of the night. There was the occasional siren wail and the shouted orders and staccato walkie-talkie bursts of the firemen at work as a thick acrid smell started to fill the night. Edward and I moved to the side as an ambulance pulled in behind us, startling me with a siren blast as we trotted down the street. Two large fire trucks were parked in the middle of the street in front of the Davidson house, and as we got closer, I could see Terry Davidson, the mom, dressed in a men's jacket that someone had thrown over her nightgown, holding her baby in her arms. I recognized several of the neighborhood ladies standing with her, arms around her, as Terry was crying.

Edging my way through the crowd, I got close enough to hear Terry, who was almost incoherent with fear and grief. Trevor was at her side, his arms wrapped around her like he was never going to let go, but my heart rose in my throat as I realized I didn't see Crystal.

One of the firemen, seemingly huge in his thick jacket and helmet, approached Terry's group. "Ma'am, I have to ask you again, which bedroom was your daughter in?"

Terry's voice was extremely shaky, but she swallowed, trying to make herself understood. "At the top of the stairs on the right."

"Did she have any special hiding places she might have gone? Children will often hide when there is a fire."

Terry's eyes were huge as she looked up at the fireman. "No," she choked out before she bent her head, sobbing over the baby in her arms, who started to cry too. One of the ladies proceeded to take Tamara out of her arms, and Terry hid her face behind her forearm, crying hysterically.

I realized that Edward was behind me on the far side the fire truck, staying in the shadow created by the flames that were starting to reach higher into the sky. I stepped the few feet over to him. "They can't find Crystal."

He looked at the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames, and then back at me.

Perhaps it was foolish of me to ask, but I had to try. "Is there anything you can do?" I asked softly.

He glanced back at the fire and then met my eyes, searching my face. I could see some inner struggle in him, but then he grabbed my shoulders. "You've never seen me, you don't know who I am," he said, speaking low and urgently.

I nodded and just that quickly he was gone from beside me.

There was a sudden whoop of siren as a police car pulled in behind me, and a fireman came tromping around the corner of the truck. I moved away from it, to get a clearer view of the house. I barely had time to stand with the other onlookers when I saw Edward appear trotting from around the dark side of the house, a small limp figure in his arms. "I need help here!" he called to the nearest firemen.

Several people started running toward him, and he placed the child in the outstretched arms of the fireman, who immediately turned and rushed the child over the ambulance waiting by the curb. Medics began working over Crystal, her stick-like arms and legs looking impossibly thin and fragile. Her mother came running over to the ambulance, crying her name, as an oxygen mask was strapped over the child's face. "She's alive! Oh thank God, she's alive," Terry cried, being gently pulled away by a police woman so the medics could work uninterrupted.

I turned back to thank Edward, but he was gone. I couldn't believe how quickly he had found the child and gotten in and out of a burning building. Whatever I thought his powers and abilities were before, I had underestimated him. No wonder I could feel a gathering power when around him; he had it and more.

I searched among the clusters of onlookers, weaving among the shadows cast by the fire, but it seemed he had vanished. Several groups of firemen were now struggling with hoses, but the arcs of water seemed to have little effect on the billowing smoke and flames that had taken hold on the second floor and were licking their way towards the roof. I watched as the fire continued its climb up to the roof, as the acrid smell of burning intensified.

I stood watching as the fire ate away at Crystal and Trevor's home, the flames gnawing hungrily at the walls and windows. I used to enjoy the warm golden light of a campfire or a fireplace, but now, seeing the how fire consumed indiscriminately the home and security of a family, I didn't know if I could ever enjoy them the same way. The ambulance pulled out of its position; by the glow of the interior light, I could see Terry's face inside it.

I was standing off to one side, not far from a group of firemen standing by one of the emergency vehicles, obviously taking a break. The orange glow from the fire lit up their faces; they were sooty and sweaty within their heavy suits and were sucking down the bottles of water in their hands. I sidled closer to listen to their conversation.

"Don't ask me where he found the kid."

"Where did he get in the house?"

"Listen, I was in the back. There weren't nobody going in and out that way."

"Maybe the kid had gotten outside."

"Nah, she had smoke inhalation. She'd been inside."

"So where the hell did he come from?"

"Think he was already inside? Maybe started it?"

I didn't wait to hear more. I edged away from them, sliding into the shadows. Of course, he hadn't started it, but I could see why he hadn't wanted the attention; it was a double-edged sword. Still, he'd done something so outrageously courageous and then fled from the deserved thanks or recognition.

Mrs. Weissmueller and Mr. Sanders, more neighbors, were standing on the far side of the street, and I stopped to commiserate with them. We'd have to organize some kind of relief for Terry and the kids; it didn't look like much was going to be salvaged from the fire.

I started walking back to my house, hoping that Edward would meet me there. The fire was far enough away that the lights were darkened and sounds were muted. I was almost at my front door when he materialized out of the shadows between houses.

"There you are," I said in relief.

"Here I am," he said smiling, leading me to believe that while I may not have known where he was, he'd been sure of my whereabouts. It was dark over here, and I could barely make out his features. The only light was from inside the house in the foyer; I must have forgotten to turn the porch light on.

"That was so brave of you. I can't thank you enough." I said. "I hope Crystal will be okay."

"Her heartbeat was good and strong. She'd fallen to the floor, so I think the smoke wasn't quite as bad down there."

"She's such a sweet kid." Dark feelings rose in me at the thought of a young innocent like Crystal being killed. I clutched at my necklace again and climbed the steps of my stoop. "That was so dangerous, I can't believe how quickly you rescued her.

He leaned his foot on the bottom step and shook his head, downplaying the rescue. "It was more dangerous than you realize, Isabella, but not in the way you imagine." He raised his eyes to mine; standing at the top of the steps, I was a few feet taller than he was. "If my nature becomes known, it puts my whole family in danger."

I looked at him, astonished. "I would never want you to do that."

He looked solemnly at me. "If I've been reticent with you about myself, it's because I am looking to your safety."

"My safety?"

"The secret of our existence is more closely guarded than any other. People die because of it."

I was almost speechless. "Edward, I'm sorry. I would never have asked you to do something that…" I didn't know how to finish that. I was going to say dangerous, but asking him to run into a burning building was dangerous. I'd never thought there might be other considerations.

He turned so his face was in deep shadow, making it unreadable. His voice, soft and mellifluous as ever, seemed to float out into the darkness. "I live a shadow existence. Not human, just pretending to be. We can't ever really join in because of our differences. It's been like living behind a glass wall, seeing the fullness of human life, but never able to cross over. It's why my family has banded together, to make their own community since the one they came from is no longer an option for them. I move from place to place, never letting anybody in. I've circled the globe and crisscrossed this country so many times, I've lost count. I've even been a stranger to my own family because I was a danger to them as well."

I swallowed, listening to the years of aching loneliness in his voice. How could someone so powerful, so beautiful, be so lost in this world? "Edward, putting you or your family in danger is the last thing I'd want to do. I'll keep your secret, whatever it is."

He took a step up the stairs, coming out of the shadows. His eyes were burning. "Can you do that, Isabella? If any of what I am were to be revealed, I'd be hunted."

"Yes, oh yes, I swear. Please don't leave me." I didn't care right then if I never asked him another question again. I would live with the mystery if it kept him near.

"Leave you? That's the last thing I can do. I've tried and failed." He took another step up. For all that he felt cool to the touch, a cold heat seemed to pour out of him, and I could feel it on my skin, intensifying with each step closer that he took. It was so different from the harsh hot heat of Jacob; it was an elegant and aromatic coolness, like stepping into an underground spring in the middle of desert heat. It was raising goose bumps on my skin and making my heart race. "Could I leave my own heart behind?" he murmured as he came up a step. "You have no idea how much I need from you."

My breath was catching in my throat. "What is it you need?" I whispered.

He took the last step so he was right in front of me. "Everything."

I had backed against the door to my apartment; I could feel the cold metal beneath my back. I was starting to tremble with anticipation or fear, I couldn't tell. I studied the logo and pocket on his shirt, which was at my eye level, some small part of my mind registering the muscular chest beneath it. There it was, his scent of baking bread, laundry dried outdoors and a thousand other favorite things that invited me to get closer and closer.

His closeness, his incredible scent, his sheer physical presence was making every nerve in my body sing. I'd been awakened to a state of hypersensitivity. I could feel the pinching of my shoes, how my jeans hugged my thighs tightly, the smooth cotton knit of my shirt on my belly and shoulders, the tight band of my bra binding me, the cooler night air as it grazed my arms and face, the door against my back, but most of all the energy pouring from him, saturating me, and the way his cool breath grazed against my face and hair.

He was just inches from me, and still I stared at his shirt and collar, almost afraid to raise my eyes to see the naked vulnerability on his face.

He leaned toward me until his mouth was just inches from mine, whispering softly. "I'm going to kiss you now."

My knees almost gave out, and finally my eyes rose to his perfect, unearthly face. His eyes poured into me.

"Now," he whispered again, even softer this time, coming closer.

I closed my eyes as his cool lips gently touched mine. It was as if all the nerves in my body had suddenly transported themselves to my lips. The only thing that mattered was the way we were connected at my lips. His were cool and firm, yet pliable as they gently moved on mine in the most amazing way, sending thrills of sensation that all seemed to gather together in the lower part of me, making my whole pelvis tingle. On and on it seemed to go, as around us, the night and the neighborhood and the world faded away until there was nothing left but the way he was kissing me and the sensations it was causing.

I couldn't help myself; my left arm crept around his neck to feel his collar and the edge of hair that was there while my right arm slid around his waist, feeling the hard muscular contours beneath it.

My lips began to move with his, and I felt myself press against him, molding myself to his body, letting myself be bowed back by the way force of his kiss and my surrender to it. His arm slipped behind my back, almost holding me up as I lost the connection to my feet, consumed by the cold fire of his lips. He stepped closer until I was sandwiched between him and the door behind my back, allowing me to feel the length of his solid torso and hips against mine. It was all hard muscle, and I felt a familiar feeling of emptiness, starting at my breastbone and ending between my legs, an emptiness that cried for him to complete it and fill me.

If it was possible to get lost inside a kiss, then that's what happened. I stopped thinking; my whole brain just shut down until I was nothing but perception—perception of this kiss that was like no other in the world. I melted further into him, his hands stronger on my hip and back as he pulled me further into him.

Our lips finally parted and still just an inch away from me, he paused. Under my hand, I felt a shiver of his muscles run down his back. My breath was shallow and ragged; whatever he had done had gone right to the core of me and had washed me in a flood of sexual tension and desire. I could barely breathe with the wanting to pull him closer, to wrap my legs around his waist, to pull him deeper into me, to merge with him. Never had I wanted a man so much, and I was shocked at the sudden strength of my need and powerless to make it stop.

We were still a moment, while he was completely motionless, and I panted in short shallow gasps. I felt that shiver down his back again.

Our faces were so close; I looked into one oddly-colored eye.

"You're panting," he whispered.

"You're shivering." I whispered back.

He pulled another fraction away. "This is harder than I thought."

_Harder to kiss me? "_Harder?" I asked in such a small voice it was almost a squeak.

"Harder to stop from doing what I want to, to continue this."

I made a small noise, a gasp, which was all I was capable of.

He took a step back, letting the night air rush between us, and the nerves in my body cried, _No! Bring that back. Bring the long, lean hardness of him back, closer to explore_.

He smiled, the most enchanting crooked smile, and I was glad for the door behind my back, holding me up. "Good night, Bella."

"Um hmmm," was all I managed to squeak out.

He turned at the bottom of the stairs and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

My brain finally kicked back into gear. "I… I have to work."

"What time do you get out?"

"Probably around three a.m."

"I'll be there," he promised and then turned. I watched his back as he strode down the walkway to the sidewalk, his long narrow figure taking long strides. He turned at the sidewalk and raised his hand in farewell.

I motioned back and then he started jogging away and was gone before my eyes had their fill of his tall figure.

I fumbled at the door into my apartment and finally got myself inside. My lips were still tingling, and the ache in me was still consuming me. I made it to the sofa and collapsed. Darcy jumped up and pushed her face against mine. I pulled her close. "Oh, kitty, I've been kissed by a miracle," I whispered into her soft ears.

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	18. Chapter 18 Pouring Gas on the Fire

Thank you everybody for the reviews! They make me laugh, cheer me on and motivate me in a thousand ways, you guys are awesome.

**Edward**

Gradually, slowly, Isabella was awakening the humanity in me. The seed she had planted at our first meeting in the church had taken hold in the barren soil of my existence, and having pushed its rooted tendrils into my cold heart, was cracking it open like willow roots taking apart a granite boulder. Arrogant in my solitude, I had always thought of my heart as a stone. Unknown to me, my heart had been a geode, cold and gray on the outside, but crack it open and expose it to Isabella's light, and crystals of something rare and unexpected began to glitter. I could feel a change coming over me, a change I had longed for but thought impossible, and I was almost dizzy with the metamorphosis going on inside me.

Oh God, I ached for her. Not the least of all things awakening was my sexual desire, which had lay dormant for so long. The heat that poured off her was incredible. I wanted to dive into it, like diving into the face of the sun to be burned into nothingness by the nuclear incandescence. She would surround me and consume me and—I ran my hand through my hair._ Alright, Edward, enough with the flowery language. Just admit it, you want to fuck the bejeezus out of her._ At least that's what my body was insisting, and I smiled to myself; the sentiment was more in tune with these times of blunt language and crass thoughts. Because it was true. Although it was just one of several things I wanted from her, it was certainly a good place to start. I wanted her breasts in my hands, to explore the mystery between her legs, to make her come as she rode me.

There were a thousand things I could imagine myself doing to her and her doing to me, and the images danced in my mind unrelentingly as I headed back to Forks. Finally, unable to stand the straining, throbbing erection any longer, I had pulled over to the side of the road and taken care of myself. Although it eliminated the immediate discomfort, it was a pale shadow of the pleasure I imagined lying within Isabella's arms. The way she had melted into my arms as we kissed convinced me that she was longing for the same connection.

It had never been like this with Tanya, never. She'd approached sex and lust with the same glee as a professional gambler at a card table. She'd initiated me and taught me some instructive techniques, but love and romance, no. For her, sex was a pleasurable pastime, worth doing well but hardly earth-shattering. Listening to her thoughts when we had made love for the first time had been almost anti-climatic. I had hoped that there could be—there had to be more.

Now with Isabella, I could see that sex could be so much more than miscellaneous body parts rubbing together. That shared ecstasy could be ecstasy squared. I wanted to give her that. I could feel the passion rising between us. I wanted the intimacy of bodies laid bare, so that all else would be laid bare as well. If I was to have no access her mind, I wanted to know her in every other way possible.

She hadn't known how right I was when I told her I would be asking for everything: her love, her human life, even her soul. I understood more than ever when Carlisle had said making another vampire was the most selfish thing he had ever done. However, I couldn't dwell on the size of the sin I was contemplating; it was easily the most monstrous thing I would ever do in my long and sordid life. But if someone so pure, so full of God's light, could love me, then I would believe that redemption was possible for even the darkest of creatures.

Her scent, though, was starting to drive me mad; I was still stumbling for a way to handle it. Our kiss had sent my muscles into spasms, trying to fight the urge to let my lips trail down her jaw line and to the side of her neck where I could hear the blood racing through her veins. I knew I'd better come up with a plan and soon. _Damn,_ I swore to myself. Why did I have to stumble across her here? Why now? If God was indeed watching, He had to be highly amused.

I started the CD player, letting the Clash's retro punk fill the car, replaying in my mind how she had looked singing along with it. Yes, my heart was opening, for a seemingly ordinary girl of most uncommon grace.

Arriving in Forks, I drove around town for a while, seeing the different places and imagining Isabella in each one, picturing her as a young girl. I drove by the high school, wondering what kind of a student she had been and what it would have been like to be in the same class as her. I might have sat beside her in class, eaten lunch in the cafeteria with her and walked her to class. I would have held her hand and asked her to the prom. Isabella's youth and untarnished optimism were salves to my stained and broken psyche, and I could imagine myself coming to her in the same state of grace as she was now. I let myself dream in this vein for a while before I put those thoughts away. That avenue had been closed to me for decades now. Perhaps it was just as well. It had taken a lifetime of wallowing in the mud to know a true diamond when I came across one. I would not allow her to escape me.

I pulled into the one all-night gas station in town, thinking to fill the car up before returning it to Jasper. It was quiet this early in the morning; dawn had yet to break, and I jumped out of the car, dispensing with my contacts since I would be using the pump's card reader. I ran my card through the reader and was holding the nozzle as the numbers whirled. A car pulled up along the other side of the island, its muffler rumbling. I didn't have to look to know it was full of teenage boys; their minds were boisterous and rowdy, full of images of sports, girls and video games, as was so often the case with young men these days. I chuckled to myself as they told each other to stash the beers they were holding. It wasn't until the driver got out of the car and approached the pumps that I felt his instant alarm when he caught my scent.

I whirled around and we stared at each other, mere feet apart. His eyes were black, his skin a dark golden brown, and he had short, black, straight hair that bristled from his scalp like a porcupine's needles. I could tell by his smell he was a Quileute and a shape shifter, to boot. It had been a long time since I'd sensed that particular scent. They were among the rare group of mortals who knew of vampires, but having a supernatural existence themselves, had been considered exempt from the edict of our secret presence.

More immediately though, chances were good that one of them was either Isabella's ex or knew of him, and I was instantly annoyed. I wanted to erase any trace of history of Isabella with anyone but myself, and now here were these boys that may have known Isabella, even played cards with her. It might have been fun to take some of the frustration I was feeling out on them, but I had no wish to create problems for my family with their neighbors. The boy outside the car growled to those inside, and they all jumped out of the car, their eyes flashing, dark looks promising violence on their faces. I was sure I held the same promise on mine, but I put the fueling hose back in its place, listening to their minds as the five of them came around the pumps to form a semi-circle around me while I screwed the gas cap back into place.

They were all shape shifters, I saw in their minds. Unfortunate to have to run into them here, this land was neutral territory but ruled by Carlisle's treaty with Ephraim Black. If they wanted to mix it up, I'd be willing, but not here in the lands bound by the treaty.

They were young and arrogant and ruled by their own testosterone. They came popping out of the car, like so many jack-in-the boxes, eager to defend 'their' territory. None of them recognized me for a Cullen. Oh, but their minds were full of hate, the names they were calling me in their heads almost stereotypically funny.

The obvious leader, a few years older than the others, powerfully built with thick dark hair, stood directly in front of me. I snapped the fuel tank door shut and turned slowly around, smiling. They'd be so terribly disappointed when they found out there would be no rumble tonight.

"You've stumbled into the wrong place, bloodsucker," the eldest hissed. From the minds of the others, I gathered his name was Paul. He was not their pack leader, but he outranked the rest of them.

"Oh, now, Paul, I don't think so," I taunted. Feeling their confusion that I knew his name, I searched among their minds. Only Paul and two others, Jared and Quil, had seen action with vampires; their eyes were hard and alert, aware of the danger. The other two, Brady and Collin, were excited and scared. I was the first vampire other than my family they'd encountered, and they were eager to use their new skills. I looked over at them. "I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not who you think I am."

Jared stepped forward. "We know exactly what you are, leech. You call yourselves vampires, but we know parasites when we see them."

Collin seemed especially belligerent and eager to prove himself in front of the others. "Yeah, if you think you can come on our territory, you'd better—"

Paul cut him off with a raised hand. He was deadly serious. "These lands are protected. We kill those who come hunting on our lands."

I leaned back against the car and crossed my arms. "And what of the treaty, dog? Will you break the word of Ephraim Black?"

Surprise rippled through them. I was actually having a good time, playing with them. Paul's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of the treaty?"

"I am a Cullen. I was there when it was signed. Where were you, mongrel?" I didn't have to be a mind reader to see the confusion and consternation I was causing. This was almost too much fun. And it was certainly a nice outlet for the frustration I'd been feeling. "Oh, that's right. Your grandfather hadn't been born yet."

The one called Quil spoke up. "There is no hunting. We kill bloodsuckers where they stand."

"I have not hunted on your lands, or anywhere bound by the agreement," I said calmly. "The treaty has not been broken on my side." They had as much at stake in keeping their supernatural powers secret as we did. "We are not the only creatures with something to lose if our natures become known," I reminded him, looking back at the store, where I knew the clerk inside was watching.

Paul was reviewing in his head a conversation with his pack leader. Carlisle had told him that there was another Cullen who had returned and was now staying with the family. Collin, meanwhile, was more than a little drunk and reckless. "We don't care, leech. We have ways to deal with you!" he shouted.

I ignored him, as did Paul, who was trying to assess the truthfulness of what I said. His eyes flicked to the car I was leaning against.

"You recognize Jasper's Camaro. Sweet ride. Of course," I said, smirking, looking over at the fourteen-year-old Rabbit they'd ridden up in, "it's no Volkswagon."

Brady was trembling, staring at me with his eyes glowing and his hands clenched at his side, trying to hold onto his human shape. Paul yelled sharply at him. "Brady, keep control or leave."

I saw Brady look away and take a deep breath, trying to control himself. "Fucking bloodsucker," I heard Quil mutter under his breath.

I looked at Paul who mimicked my stance of arms crossed. "Puppies," I said, shaking my head in mock sympathy, "I hope they're housebroken."

With that, Collin let out a roar and came at me. He was surprisingly quick enough to grab a handful of my shirt before I stiff-armed him away. He went flying backwards into Brady, and the two of them crashed against the gas pump, but not before he'd ripped off the patch pocket of my shirt. They stumbled backwards almost comically and wound up in a tangle on the ground. I looked down at myself; my shirt was ruined. Now I was starting to feel angry, and a growl erupted from my chest. It was met in kind by Jared, who took a step closer, his mind yelling 'demon' at me.

"Come any closer, wolf, and you'll be tangling with the devil himself," I hissed at him. He stopped where he was, but his eyes continued to throw daggers at me.

Paul stood in front of Collin and Brady, standing in their way as they pulled themselves upright, ready to spring at me again." You two. In the car. Now."

The two of them picked themselves up, Collin still holding the scrap of fabric from my shirt in his fist. His face was hard and resentful. "Next time," he promised me as he and Brady got into their car.

"Next time I won't be gentle," I said, making a promise of my own. I turned back to Paul. "You know they have leash laws in this town," I said, examining my shirt.

"Don't push it, Cullen," he warned. "The color of your eyes tells me all I need to know."

I still hadn't gotten the information I wanted from them. I looked back at the convenience store abutting the pumps islands. "I'm sure Chief Swan would be interested in any trouble you want to start."

"I'll be watching you," he promised, ignoring my comment and starting to back towards his car, motioning with his head for the other two to follow.

"Chief Swan and his beautiful daughter, I should add." There it was, the image in their minds I'd been looking for. Paul did his best to remain poker-faced, but I got the distinct picture of Isabella with a Quileute and the name Jacob. There were some mixed feelings there about Jacob and Bella, some nebulous emotions that I would liked to have explored, but his mind was already moving on.

I got in the Camaro and let the tires squeal as I peeled out of the gas station. A small, petty gesture, but it held a small bit of satisfaction. It was more than the Quileutes were getting.

The house was quiet when I returned to it. The media room and the living room were empty; everyone was in their respective bedrooms. It never used to bother me; I'd found ways to shut my mind to the others' bedroom activities. I guess I'd been like a six-year-old where all sexual innuendo flew over my head, but tonight was terribly different. My own state of semi-arousal from just being in Isabella's presence was making me all raw nerves, and the hormones of the seventeen-year-old body I was trapped in were flooding me and destroying my equilibrium.

I sat down at the piano, trying the intricate pacing of Salonen's Piano Concerto, but the images kept breaking through: Alice's head thrown back, the feel of a cupped breast in Jasper's hand, Emmett's eyes closed in pleasure, Rosalie mounting him cowgirl, Esme's golden eyes, smiling. Like pornographic snapshots, they kept breaking through the walls I usually managed to keep around myself. Finally, it became too much, the images flooding my mind until I felt like I was watching three X-rated movies at once. I fled from the house to take solace in the woods, promising myself that it wouldn't be long before I, too, would have the satisfaction of a lover.

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	19. Chapter 19 The Falls

**A/N** huge thanks to all my reviewers out there, I'm sorry if I can't reply to you all! I hope everyone has enjoyed New Moon!

**Bella**

Ethan brushed by me with a full bus bucket, headed for the dish room. It was another night at the diner, and I was sitting at the mostly empty counter, working on cleaning and refilling the ketchups. The after bar rush was mostly over; it hadn't been a big night.

My mind kept returning to the night before. Edward had done such a brave thing, going into the house after Crystal and then shunning any kind of recognition. What an incredible creature he was. Then there was the way he'd looked at me, his fascinating scent, his cool lips on mine—the sensations were ghosting within me, and I was remembering and polishing them in my heart like a miser with a secret hoard.

"You've been smiling for no reason all night," Arlene said saucily as she reached for the sugars on the other side of the counter. "What's going on with you?"

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said, reluctant to share any part of the seeming fairy tale or bible story I was part of. Not the least because of Edward's warnings but also because of the desire to keep this otherworldly experience to myself. The most powerful secrets were the well-kept ones.

"Nothing," Arlene snorted skeptically. "Yeah, right." She grabbed a handful of empty creamers and sashayed towards the dish room. "Ethan, you got those sugar bowls done yet?"

Somehow, I knew without raising my head when Edward arrived. The bell on the front door of the diner tinkled, and suddenly, I felt my whole body wake up. I looked over to see Edward pulling open the door and walking in. His dark hair glinted redly in the lights of the diner, and his eyes were dark and grave until they met mine and then both of us broke out into grins. He must walk around in a natural state of smoldering, I thought. How could someone look so good, so seductive all the time?

His lips were burnt rose sienna against the paleness of his skin, skin as pale and flawless as that of an English choirboy. He wore jeans that hung low and tight on his narrow hips and a tan leather jacket covering a dark tee shirt that pulled tightly across his chest. He looked charming and dangerous, innocent and edgy. There was a term nibbling at the edges of my mind that made me smile as I recognized it. Oh yes, droolworthy; definitely droolworthy.

I jumped to my feet and took a last swipe with my cloth at the ketchup bottle while he walked over to an empty booth near the door. I couldn't help the wide, goofy grin on my face as I walked over to him; it was ridiculous how happy I was to see him, even here in the diner where he looked as out of place as a crystal wineglass in a cabinet full of plastic cups.

"Hi," I said softly as I approached his booth.

"Hello," he said back, his eyes softening. "You look great."

"You look better," I said back, certain of it. My uniform was yellow polyester, the fabric of queens. "I'm going to be a few more minutes. Can I get you anything?" I still hadn't seen him eat anything. Was he on a special diet or something?

"Cup of coffee?" he asked.

"You got it." I went behind the counter to the cups and coffee. Arlene came up beside me and leaned back against the counter, looking at me and then to where Edward sat. "You have an odd idea of what nothing is," she said, nodding her head in Edward's direction.

"Oh, yeah, well…" I trailed off, unable to keep the smile off my face. This was embarrassing—how just his presence was making my heart pound.

"That nothing got a name?" Arlene asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Edward," I said, feeling the blush starting to creep upwards.

Arlene saw my blush and drew her head back, assessing me like I was crazy. "Damn, girl, he's prettier than an armful of roses. Why are you embarrassed?"

I turned the coffee spigot, trying to focus on my work. I was going to have to set up a new urn before I left for the night.

"So, where'd you meet him?" Arlene asked.

"At church."

"Holy cow," Arlene said, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm gonna have to get some religion."

I brushed past her, smiling. I brought the coffee over to Edward's table and set it in front of him. "I shouldn't be too long."

"No problem."

Arlene came up behind me. "Maybe he'd like the paper while he waits," she said, slipping the diner's copy of the Times on the table.

"Thanks," Edward and I said in unison.

She stuck out her hand. "You must be Edward. I'm Arlene."

Edward shook her hand. "Nice to meet you," he said, smiling.

"Bella here's been telling me all about you," she said, causing me to look incredulously at her. I wouldn't categorize that brief conversation as exactly spilling the beans.

"Has she?" he asked, smiling and glancing between the two of us.

"Well, not nearly enough." Arlene threw a glance at me over her shoulder. She slid past me to sit in the booth opposite of Edward. "You don't mind if I take a load off, do you?"

I was speechless at Arlene's nerve; however, Edward rose slightly in his seat and gestured invitingly to the seat. "Please, join me. It's a pleasure to meet Isabella's co-workers."

Arlene raised her eyebrows at me. "Shit, and he's a gentleman, too." She leaned across the booth table toward Edward. "You don't have any older brothers at home, do you?'

I heard the front door bell tinkle, announcing a customer's entrance at the same time that Frank dinged the pick-up bell and yelled through the pass-through. "Arlene! Pick up!"

Arlene rolled her eyes and sighed. "Unfortunately, that is the only time a man has been yelling for my attention lately."

Father Brian came up behind us and leaned on the booth behind Arlene. "Arlene, what's this? Sitting down on the job?"

Arlene grimaced. "Well, if my fanny could hit the cushion for longer than a half-second, yeah, maybe." She slid out of the booth. "You might as well take my place, Father, the slave driver in the kitchen is cracking his whip."

"Good evening, Bella," the father greeted me as he slid into Arlene's vacated spot. He had on a plaid shirt with his priest's collar. He stuck his large, workman-like hand out. "Edward, isn't it? Nice to see you again."

Edward shook his hand. "Nice to see you." His own hands were long, the fingers tapering, musician's hands. He must play an instrument, I thought idly.

"Coffee, Father?" I asked, watching Edward. I loved watching him with other people; it gave me a chance to see him through other people's eyes and to watch his face as he smiled and talked. I still couldn't understand why people didn't gasp when they saw him; was I the only one who could truly see him?

"Thank you, Bella. That would be great," he said. Reluctant to leave Edward, I walked slowly away as Father Brian asked Edward, "So, are you here to pick up Bella?"

I looked over my shoulder and caught Edward looking at me. "Yes," he said to the Father, but smiling for me.

I got a cup of coffee from the urn and brought it over. "Thank you, Bella," Father Bryan said, reaching for the cup. "Edward was telling me you two had met in church."

"That's right," I answered as Edward's and my eyes met again. We were drawn to each other, I realized—drawn like magnets.

"I should get my sidework done, but then I'll be ready to go," I promised.

"I will wait for you," Edward said. Somehow I knew he would. If it took all night, he would wait for me.

I ran through the rest of my duties, occasionally peaking at the booth where Edward and Father Brian were seated. Edward sat casually, sideways, his arm along the back of the booth, his other hand fiddling with the coffee cup. I knew Father Brian enough to see that he was enjoying the conversation; he only used his hands that much when he was passionate on what he was talking about.

Finally done, I was putting on my cardigan as I walked over to the booth behind the Father, who was unaware of my approach. Edward was leaning over the table, speaking with intensity. "But what if the sin committed is to prevent a bigger sin?"

"Well, I'm not sure what you mean," Father Brian said slowly, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Like a policeman, for example," he said, staring at the spoon in his hands. "If he shoots a man, to prevent that man from killing others."

"The fifth commandment does not prohibit lawful self-defense, even if that means lethal action," the father said, warming to his subject. "Actions taken by legal authority to protect the public good are allowed, as long as the force necessary to prevent evil is used at the appropriate level. It's premeditated killing or the killing of innocents that is the mortal sin."

I froze. The killing of innocents. That was my sin. That's why I went to church so often, that's why I'd been so sick, that's why I knew there could be no absolution for me, because my sin was the worst there was. My knees started to tremble; this was going to be bad.

Edward took one look at me over the Father's shoulder, and sprang from the booth, slapping a bill on the table as he rose quickly in one smooth motion. "Good night, Father," he said. "I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

Father Brian looked around as Edward put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me away towards the door. "Oh…" I heard him say. In a subdued voice, he called goodnight to us, but by then Edward was guiding me out the door.

"It's okay, Isabella," he murmured in my hair as he led us over to his motorcycle parked at the curb. "It's going to be okay."

I pulled from his grasp and turned to face him. "Edward, you don't know me. I'm not who you think I am." My voice was starting to shake as I could feel tears collecting. Once Edward knew the kind of girl I was, he'd be leaving too, I was sure. I would be alone, just like always.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and bent his knees so our faces were nearly level. "I know who you are, Isabella. And what I don't know doesn't matter. Don't let them shake you."

I started protesting. "There is so much…"

He wouldn't let me finish. "There is strength in you. Don't let them beat you down. Find the courage."

That stopped me—that was an unexpected thing to say. I looked into his eyes; they were fierce in their intensity. Nobody had ever called me strong before, no one had told me to stand up for myself. It was always about getting along, being a good girl, helping others. "I…I don't know…" I said, letting my eyes slide to the ground.

"Come on," he said. "I would like to take you somewhere. Please, come with me?"

Oh, sweet Jesus, when he asked me anything while he looked at me that way, his eyes burning, his lips slightly parted, his hair mussed in the most inviting way, the only answer I was able to give would be yes. So I pushed all the emotions, guilt, fear and everything that had come gushing out back into its box and whispered, "Yes."

I settled in behind him on the bike, yanking at my uniform hem in an effort to be modest, but it was too close fitting to provide me the kind of coverage I'd like. I laid my hands gently at his waist, beneath his open soft leather jacket, and we rode off into the dark city streets. I knew I had to tell him about myself and soon. I wondered if this would be the last ride I'd be getting.

These motorcycle rides were so sensual. The air rushing by, the drone of the powerful engine between our legs, the city at night flying past—it all combined to make me feel weightless and free in a way I couldn't remember ever feeling before. I let myself relax against his back, and laid my head against him, letting the wind flay away the fears and shame from me. I could stay forever on the back of this bike, surreptitiously letting myself smell Edward's scent, feeling his torso against mine and his narrow hips between my knees. His presence was becoming like a drug to me. Nothing mattered more than being here with him now as the world slipped away.

Slowly, like glaciers creeping, my hands began to move of their own accord. They snuck around his waist until he was wrapped in my arms, and I was pressed against him, feeling the long lean muscles of his back against me and the smooth shoulder blades beneath my cheek. I closed my eyes and let the intermittent brightness of the passing streetlamps bounce against my eyelids as my hands moved so slowly up his chest, tentatively exploring the large planes of his pectorals, my fingers ghosting over the dip between them, up to the collarbones and slowly down again.

He was so firm, and yet I could feel the muscles bunching and stretching beneath his skin as he drove the bike. I couldn't say why I was allowing myself these intimacies and if he had turned to me or acknowledged me in any way, I would have been mortified and stopped immediately.

Yet I couldn't stop the flat palms of my hands from gliding millimeters at a time across his chest, moving slowly over the nubs of his nipples and making my way down to the hollow that announced his sternum.

We'd gotten through the city and were on a long stretch of Route 90 East. That's when his hand left the handlebar to rest lightly on my knee. My hands froze and we rode like that for a few miles. Haltingly, I let my hands move again, and gasped when, in response, his fingers slowly circled their place on my knee.

That's how the ride to Snoqualmie Falls passed. I had no idea where we were headed. It didn't matter. The only thing in the world was the achingly slow exploration of his chest beneath my hands and the small tender movements of his fingers on my knee and thigh. They traced patterns on my knee, never venturing more than a hands-breadth up my thigh, and yet, somehow, I felt his hands all over me. I shivered against him when his hand slowly dipped to the underside of my knee to the crease there, gently stroking the sensitive skin. My hands gradually traversed over the hard ridges of his abdominals and then up again to the fanlike muscles of his pectorals, inch by inch.

Was it possible to make love on a moving motorcycle? Was it making love when your lover never ventured beyond a six inch square of skin? The answer had to be yes because I was in an erotic trance that flooded my senses with his smell, his touch, the coolness of his back as my breasts pressed against him, the feeling of his rough jeans against my inner thighs. Even the wind became an extension of his caress, the drone of the motorcycle a substitute for his murmur.

His hand left my knee when we turned into the park entrance. We weaved through the 'Park is Closed' signs and up the road to the falls. Even over the roar of the motorcycle, I could hear the thundering water as we approached. We bypassed the dark and empty parking lot, and he drove the motorcycle right up the path that began the approach to the overlook of the falls, stopping a bit off where the walkway began.

He turned off the motorcycle, and I reluctantly dismounted, again nearly falling backwards as I did. His hand was right there on my elbow steadying me.

"Sorry," I murmured. "These rides…" Embarrassed, I trailed off. A different girl emerged from me during them, but with my feet back on the ground, my inhibitions sprang back.

"I know, these rides," he agreed softly, causing me to glance up at him. He was looking at me, the passion I'd been feeling reflected in his eyes, and I knew if I made the smallest sign of acquiescence that he would gather me in his arms and we would begin something tonight that would end in passion, right here in this park. As much as my body demanded that, my mind disagreed, not here, not in the park, like fumbling high school kids.

I took a step back, breaking the tension. "I've never been here before."

"These falls are great," he grinned, his teeth flashing in the darkness. He turned and removed the blanket from the storage beneath the motorcycle seat. "You'll like them."

The walkway was slick and damp with humidity, even though the night was clear. The moon was a sliver, hanging low in the sky above the dark tree line, providing just enough light for my eyes to make out the outlines of objects. We came to the observation deck that overlooked the falls and walked to the railing.

We were about the same height as the top of the falls, which were off to our left. The water fell in a thundering, silver curtain almost three hundred feet to the lake below. Away from the churning water at the bottom of the falls, the lake was black and smooth and the crescent moon's reflection hung there, suspended.

"It's beautiful," I sighed. The whitewater roared as it cascaded over the granite cliffs. "It reminds me of you."

"How so?" he asked, smiling.

Leaning my elbows on the railing, I stared at the water below. "Beautiful and powerful."

He came up behind me. "Isabella," he whispered, his voice thick and rough.

"Please, please call me Bella. Isabella sounds so…" The way he said Isabella made the name sound like someone good and pure, innocent even, things I was not.

"I need to ask you something. It's getting harder and harder for me to be with you. I need to know."

I turned slowly to see him in the moonlight, his face bleached in the pale ghostly moonlight. "What is it?" I whispered. Harder for him? The more he learned about me, the harder it was?

"Do you think you could ever come to love me? I—I have to know what you're thinking."

I turned back to the falls. "Edward, you'd be so easy to love. But there's things I haven't told you."

"I told you before, it doesn't matter."

"I'm not who you think I am. You see me as a nice church-going girl, but I am not, I am _so_ not."

"If you think this matters—"

"Let me say it. You have to let me say it." My face was burning with the shame I was feeling. Now was when I wished he could read my mind, so I wouldn't have to say these things aloud.

I looked out over the lake, dark and calm, wishing I could feel the same calmness, but my stomach was churning. "I was with a boy, we'd known each other for a long time. I got pregnant. Stupid, I know. We were being careful, or so I thought. When I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out. He didn't want the child, was afraid it would have some kind of genetic mutation that ran in his family, or so he said." I took a deep breath. I kept my voice flat and emotionless. "I had an abortion."

His voice floated behind me. "He was a fool. How could anyone not want a child of yours?"

"But that's it, don't you see? _I _didn't want it. I was still in school, still a kid myself. I didn't want to be the redneck trailer trash girl that gets pregnant in high school. If I had wanted the baby, Jake wouldn't have been able to talk me out of it, but I was scared. I wasn't ready to be a mother. " I turned around.

"Now I'll never be. There were problems." I placed my hands on my scar. W WW "What Father Brian was talking about, the murder of innocents?" My voice turned harsh and sharp. "That's me, Edward, and I can't ever undo it or take it back, and God is punishing me."

"Is—Bella, that makes no sense. Women have abortions all the time. Why would He single you out?"

I threw my hands up in the air. "It doesn't make sense?" I laughed harshly. "Tell me, what does? Did it make sense that Jake left me like that? Does it make sense that I'm here with you? And I don't even know what you are!"

He started to protest, but I overrode him. I could hear the bitterness and sarcasm creep into my voice. "I know, I know, don't ask, don't tell. Yeah, that's real fair. But I'm not who you think I am. I'm not."

Hot tears began to burn in my eyes. _Here you go, Bella, fuck it up good._ "I mean, just look at us, the differences..." I waved my hand at his unearthly perfection and then at me in my yellow polyester, as if he couldn't see. He probably had super eyes as well as super everything else.

I walked back across the observation deck. The night was silent except for the rushing of the water. _Nice going, Bella. It wouldn't be surprising if he took off right now. How would I get home? Maybe Arlene would come get me after work._

His voice startled me when he began speaking. He was right behind me. "We're more alike than you realize. I know what it means to sin and to hate yourself for doing so."

His cool hand came to rest on my shoulder. "If I have you wrong, please let me discover that. You thought I was an angel. You don't know how far from the truth you were. So maybe I have you wrong, but we can discover each other. Let that happen."

I closed my eyes. I wanted so much for that to happen. Was I ready for this? I couldn't take another trampling of my heart.

"I will never be a father, Bella. My kind can't be parents. If it's children you are concerned about, that has never been an option for me. And as for this Jake," Edward's voice got low and rumbly, "the thought that someone would hurt you makes me want to destroy him."

I shook my head. Yes, Jake had hurt me, but I was beyond him now. "Edward, he's just a boy. Promise me you'd do nothing like that."

"If it's what you wish." He paused and gently pushed on my shoulder until I was facing him.

"I know what it is to feel alone in this world. I can see you know it too. There is so much about you that draws me in, tell me you feel it too. We are meant to be together. If nothing else makes sense, that does."

There it was again, the feeling that we clicked together like magnets. If it wasn't destiny then I didn't know what it could be. I looked up at his face, barely illuminated by the silver moonlight. His skin was so pale, so perfect, and his dark, elegant eyebrows were like raven's wings, framing eyes that were looking into the depths of my soul.

"Yes, oh yes," I breathed, barely getting the words out before his lips covered mine. When separate waters mix, can you tell which one is which? We were mixed together until I couldn't tell where he began and I left off. He was indeed my drug, and every time he kissed me, I got higher.

He drew back from me slowly, but I couldn't make myself let go of my arms around his neck. He was shivering again. "There is a trail. Would you like to hike down to the lake?"

Reluctantly, I withdrew my arms. "I am not really dressed for hiking. I think I'd just like to go back to my apartment."

"Alright then," he said, smiling. He took my hand as we headed back to the bike.

Another motorcycle ride, but this time I kept my hands still, knowing I wouldn't have too long to wait before I could explore him the way I wanted to, completely and at leisure. When we arrived back at my house, it was still deep night, the neighborhood still and quiet.

We entered the door as I saw Darcy streak away under the bed. I hung up my cardigan on the coat hook as Edward entered the living room in front of me. I took off my apron and threw it on the table, watching him as he turned around, looking somewhat lost in my living room even as he seemed to fill it up. These walls would always seem a bit too small to contain his otherworldly, powerful presence.

I saw he was still trembling. His face looked tense, like he was warring with himself, barely breathing. I came up in front of him and asked softly, "You're shivering. Are you cold?"

"No," he said, his voice rough. I came up in front of him and stood on my tiptoes, gingerly putting an arm around him and kissing his lips. He returned the kiss fiercely, almost bruising me and smothering me with his lips before I had to gasp for air. My heart began to pound with excitement. He bent me backwards, letting his lips trail down my neck to the side of my exposed throat. I waited, but he had frozen us into position, my feet almost off the floor and at an angle where I could get no purchase. Slowly, his lips pulled back, and I could feel his closed teeth against the sensitive skin of my neck. His shivering turned into something more, almost like spasms that rippled through him. I grew alarmed; what was happening?

Suddenly, I was out of his arms. I crumpled to the floor, my support gone, landing on my ass with a resounding thud. In the space of a second, he had seemingly flown across the room, hiding in the shadows of the corner, pressed against the wall, like he'd been pinned there.

"I—I'm sorry. I can't…" he whispered and then he vanished.

* * *

I know, I know! *Author dodges the tomatoes* But Edward has to do something about the bloodlust before things can go any farther!

I have a chapter for next week, but after that things may get a little spotty between now and the holidays. Please keep me on your alerts and favorites, you can also follow me on twitter as duskwatcher, I post story news on there. Things will go back to regular afterwards.

Again, my thanks to all my wonderful reviewers out there. You make me laugh, tear up, move me and motivate me.


	20. Chapter 20 Returning Home

**Edward**

I banged my head against the building's wall, pounding my forehead against the brick until it started to crumble under the impact. I was a block from Bella's apartment, in an alleyway between the coffee store and the drycleaners, having fled from there so fast I would have been invisible to any eyes watching. _That was close, too damn close_. I pounded my head again and again as if I could drive the bloodlust from me that way. I'd almost killed her. _Stupid, shit-for-brains-stupid, stupid. How long did you think you were going to be able to pretend that you were human? You're a killer, and that can't be ignored. _Venom started to seep into my eyes from the abrasions on my forehead, and yet I couldn't stop as I damned myself again and again.

I'd been so close. Bella had opened up to me in Snoqualmie, and when I'd brought her home, I'd felt her willingness and her desire. She'd been in my arms, and then her scent had hit me like a sledgehammer. In the confines of her apartment, there had been nowhere to run from it, and it had set my throat blazing. The instincts of a hunter had started warring with my rational mind. I'd pulled her close and heard the wet sucking sound of the beating of her heart and the blood dancing through her veins. Unable to stop myself, I'd let my lips travel down her neck. She'd placed an arm around my neck, in innocent trust and the predator had chased the lover away. It had been only at the last minute that I realized I'd placed her into the kill position, and I'd dropped her in horror. What would she think? Would she think I'd dropped her in rejection rather than my realization that the next move would have been to kill her?

Damn, damn this life, if that's what it was. I'd tried my whole existence to separate the vampire from the man. I'd never indulged in wanton killing; I'd culled only the worst humans from among them. I'd always thought I had the upper hand over the predatory nature of my being. How that house of cards had come crashing down, undone by Bella's sublime smell.

I leaned back against the wall, clenching my fists and trying to think. But her scent still filled my nose, and every fiber in my being wanted nothing more than to turn back and quench the burning with her fragrant blood that held the promise of so much ecstasy.

This was it then; my choice had been thrust upon me. I could run far and fast, as Jasper had suggested, trying to keep to a life of vegetarianism. But it would never be fulfilling enough to give me the strength to be with her. I'd have to live my time without Bella, knowing that she was somewhere in the world, going on with her life. Her human memories of me would fade over time, and I would be just a shadow in her mind of some strange experience. Whereas, with the sharpness of vampire recall, every day I would see her as sharply as I could now, acute to every detail, down to the stray red highlight in her hair and the number of eyelashes surrounding her warm umber eyes. And every day I would know that I had let her go.

Or…

Or…

I knew there was one way that I could stand to be in her presence. It was the same way I had dealt with it the night I had saved her from those thugs.

But it meant someone would die. It meant there would be another body at my feet, another soul on my conscience, another name for my litany. It meant more months or years away from my family, more time on the road, more hours spent opening my mind, listening for the thoughts of the depraved and diseased. Was the chance of winning Bella's love worth the price to be paid in human lives? Was it worth the price I would have to pay? The shame I felt had grown deeper with every year, and as my sins became more numerous, the litany had become the chain that kept me leashed to hell. Was I willing to forge more links on that chain?

I looked up at the dark sky. It was an illusion of course—an illusion that I had a choice. For I would choose the slight, fragile woman I had just run from over anything else that God had on this earth, and I couldn't even say why for sure, other than the certainty that whatever I had spent years looking for was there within her arms. Whatever the cost to be paid, I would pay it now and in the future, over and over again.

I straightened up and stepped out from between the buildings. I raised my face to the breeze that was stirring a handful of trash along the curb and began to hunt.

I ran along the nighttime streets, heading for the docks along the shoreline, opening my mind as I ran. I could run fast enough that my passing was invisible though the dark city, and I listened to the thoughts of its inhabitants as I passed. This would have to be quick; the sooner I returned to Bella, the better. Perhaps I could forestall any damage I might have done.

_Nothing on the tube this late…_

_I've got some coffee, you want some?_

_Mommy! Mommy!_

_C'mon bitch, you know what I want…_

_Better not let your parents catch you…_

_I'll kill you, you know I will…_

There it was, the image I was looking for. A face twisted in fear, thoughts jumbled into incoherency, the victim and the criminal staring at one another while they balanced along the knife's edge of violence. It was the crux when the bloodshed was started, when the smell of brutality and cruelty saturated the area and the realization of the death to come hit both parties.

I zigzagged across the street and up the side of the building in a way that would make Spiderman proud, clinging to the brick façade from my fingertips and easily entering through the open window into a darkened bedroom.

In the next room, a young, desperate man was waving a knife at an old asthmatic who coughed and wheezed under the stress.

"Give it to me, old man! Where is the money?"

The answering voice was shaky and feeble. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have any money."

"You stupid fucking shithead! Stop lying to me!"

There was a hoarse scream as the younger man, armed with a knife, slashed at the old man. From inside my dark vantage point, I could see a thin line of red appear on the old man's grizzled cheek. He put his hand to his face and drew back, staring at the blood that glistened on his palm and fingers.

The smell of blood. I inhaled deeply through my nose, closing my eyes and letting it beckon to me while the tableaux in front of me played out.

"Give it to me!" the young man screamed, while the old man, cowering, took a step back and, tripping over a rug, fell heavily to the floor.

Normally, I would have grabbed the perpetrator and fled with my meal, so the victim was unaware of how his transgressor was delivered into God's hands. But tonight, the bloodlust was pounding at me, Bella's scent having wakened it. Keeping my eyes closed, I reached out and pulled the young man backwards into the darkened room, out of the old man's sight. I heard the wet popping of his collarbone and shoulder blade crunch under my fingers, and he began to scream, much louder and higher pitched than the old man. With my fingers, I pinched through the tendons and muscle structures of his neck crushing the trachea and rendering the larynx useless. I had an arm wrapped around his torso from behind, and his arms and legs began to flail, knocking over a lamp and the side table it was on. Still clutching his knife, he waved it uselessly, making a long slash in the wallpaper. I captured his hand in my own, squeezing it and felt the bones in his hand compress and collapse, causing the knife to clatter to the floor.

His chest was heaving, but his movements were lessening as he started to suffocate, his esophagus having been pinched shut.

I took another two steps backward into the darkened room, and twisted him around, holding him close to me, chest to chest. I could smell his sweat and fear, and underneath the gurgling and whistling sounds he made through the ruins of his throat, there was the quickened pace of his heart, the moist thudding as the blood rushed through it. I draped his body across mine and gently cradled his head in my left hand, while his eyes got impossibly wide.

His beard stubble tickled my cheek as I nestled into his throat. I heard the delicate, delicious ripping sound as I pulled my lips back and sank my teeth into that tender spot just below the jaw line where the blood raced.

There it was, the blood—hot, sweet, soothing. Pulsing into my mouth with each hammering beat of his heart, I rolled it across my tongue as I drank, helplessly savoring it, as it pushed me into the state where there was nothing in the world but me and the blood. Me and the blood and the rapidly disappearing sound of a beating human heart. Hypnotic and transcendent, the rich liquid was alive in my mouth, causing me to shudder with pleasure.

I closed my eyes, still cradling his head and rocking him back and forth like a mother with a baby, wringing the last mouthfuls from him. Gradually, I relaxed my arms and his body slid to the floor. The blood was singing through me, and I could feel its rush to my extremities. Exhilaration and satiation tingled outwards from my throat, and I let my head loll back and staggered a step backwards, letting the feelings envelope me. Cold fire raced down my neural pathways, and I took a deep breath, relishing the taste and feel.

"My son! What have you done with my son?" In the doorway, the old man was crumpled on the ground, having pulled himself along the floor. "My son!" he was crying hoarsely as he reached out to the body on the ground.

I froze in surprise. His thoughts shouted at me. This was his son, his abusive, junkie son, and against all reason or explanation, the old man loved him still. He was the old man's only son and I'd just killed him nearly in front of his eyes.

I felt the old man's horror, and it meshed and grew with my own. I looked at the young man's body on the floor; he was disheveled and emaciated, his appearance and scent screaming addict. He had fallen face up, one arm flung out and the other crossed gently on his chest, like he was napping. But his eyes were dull, glazed and wide open with the fear of his death still in them.

"Jerry, Jerry," the old man was weeping, calling his dead son's name. The tears ran through the red streaks of blood on his face, mixing together. I was paralyzed with indecision and abhorrence. In my haste, I'd just violated every one of my own ethics in taking a human life. I couldn't even move with the repugnance I felt for myself.

The old man pulled himself along the floor further until he could touch his son's face. "Jerry," he sobbed, his arthritic fingers brushing his son's cheek. He looked up at my still figure, obscured by the dark and moaned, "Why?"

"I'm—I don't—" There was nothing I could say. Nothing that could assuage his grief at losing his son, and what had he died for? So I could be with Bella? With a wild inarticulate cry of my own grief and horror, I grabbed the body and fled out the window, leaving behind the sound of broken sobbing.

I ran along the rooftops, cradling the dead body in my arms like a figure from a pieta until I found a dumpster several miles away. I gently set him in it and started a fire, throwing in papers and broken crates until I was sure that the cause of death couldn't be ascertained. If I had thought it would make a difference, I would have prayed, but there was no ear in heaven for my kind. I walked away from it when suddenly I froze again.

His name—I didn't know his name! Jerry? Jerry what? I was making a mockery of the boundaries and rules I had set for myself. I needed his name for my litany. I had to have it. I couldn't live with myself otherwise. I turned back to the dumpster, but it was in full blaze, and in the distance, I could hear a siren.

I couldn't face the old man again. "I'll find it, Jerry," I whispered to the inferno behind me, where flames were now shooting ten feet above the lip of the dumpster. "I promise."

I ran back to Bella's apartment, unsure of what I would find there and wondering if the murder I had just committed would even count for something. The apartment was dark, and I let myself in silently. Bella was sprawled across her bed, her breathing regular and her heartbeat steady and slow. I was sure she was sleeping, but she suddenly sat up and looked straight at me, even though I had been soundless.

"Edward, is that you?"

"Yes, Bella."

She reached for the lamp, but I insisted, "Please, leave the lights out." I could, of course, see her perfectly well, but in the dark, she wouldn't be able to see the bright red of my eyes.

She moved her hand slowly back to her lap. "Alright," she agreed in a whisper. "You came back…"

"Bella, I've told you. I can't stay away." My voice was low and broken. I would trek through hell and back, distance myself from my family, break every value and violate every moral I had to be with her.

She sat on her bed, one leg crossed underneath her, her hair massed around her shoulders. She had on a pair of cotton shorts with the waistband turned down and the same lacy white camisole I had seen her in before. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy; she'd been crying before I came, and I kicked myself for my own heartlessness. Her scent was bowling me over again, but the bloodlust stayed in its cage, licking its lips with its recent meal.

"I don't understand, why are you here? There have to be a million girls out there." She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I… Why me?"

"Bella, you don't see yourself the way I do. I've searched all over and I know there is no peace for me. Only with you." I wished I could make her see. "Only with you," I repeated, whispering.

"Why did you leave?" she asked, and I could hear the uncertainty and pain in her voice.

"I am so sorry," I whispered. "It is harder for me to be with you than I realized. I had to…take precautions."

"I thought I had done something wrong," she said uncertainly.

"Oh no, Bella." I took a step and fell to one knee before her as she sat on the bed. It brought our faces nearly level. "It's me." I let one hand rest on the blanket beside her, curling it into a fist and fighting the ache to touch the silky expanse of thigh in front of me. "It is so wrong of me to ask for your love, but I can't help myself." Her brown eyes were large and liquid, and I could have tumbled into them like falling off the edge of a cliff.

She put a hand to my face. I closed my eyes against the warmth of her palm. "It could be wrong of me to give it," she whispered, and my chest seemed to collapse in on itself. "But I can't seem to help myself either."

She put her other hand on my face as well, and capturing it, brought her face to mine and kissed me sweetly on the lips. Warm and sweet, and soft—so incredibly soft. The softness beckoned to me like the sight of a still, mist-covered lake called to mind beset with chaos.

A rush of elation filled me. I fought the desire to crush her to my chest, to fling her backwards on the bed and rip her clothes from her. I would take this as slowly as she needed. Slow and deliberate was good. I'd have to be careful with her, so fragile and slight in her humanity.

"You're trembling," she whispered as she slid off the bed to join me kneeling on the floor.

"I'll be fine," I promised her, letting an arm snake around her back and carefully pulling her closer.

She stroked my face, shaping it under her fingers in the darkness. "You're warmer."

The blood I'd drunk would raise my temperature for a few hours as my tissues assimilated it. "Yes," I answered, finding her hand and laying mine against it so they were palm to palm. My fingers were longer than hers by over an inch while hers were delicate and petite, the nails short and unpainted. Despite the size difference, my hand came to hers like a wanderer returning home. Never had my hand felt so comfortable and natural. "Not as warm as you." The arm I had around her waist almost seemed to burn where I touched her, the warmth of her body easily felt under the thin chemise.

She raised her arm, and with it resting on my shoulder, gently stroked my neck with her fingers. "Your skin is so smooth," she said, wonder permeating her voice. She was exploring me with her hands and the sensations were filling my mind.

The shift in her movement had caused the chemise she was wearing to shift as well, and now the last two fingers of my right hand were in contact with the supple skin of her back. I could feel the muscles slide under her skin as she made small adjustments in her position, and I was acutely aware of every millimeter where our skin touched.

I looked into her umber eyes, wide and trusting. I almost told her then; the urge to share everything with her was almost overwhelming. What held me back was concern for her. Her relationship with God was so important to her; could I ask her to break it for me? What if she decided not to join me in this shadow life? It would be tantamount to a death sentence, and so I held back, and this ruinous decision was to come back to haunt me.

Instead, I leaned forward the short distance to kiss her. Her lips were so electric, soft and yielding. They moved against mine, creating thrills of sensation that flew along my nerves, exciting my whole body. Her breathing was coming shorter, and her heart pounded faster, and I felt my body respond to hers. She put her arm around my head, tangling her fingers in my hair, pulling us closer even as she melted against me. I could feel the lovely softness of her breasts against my chest, even with the fabric of our clothes between us, and I let a hand slowly travel to her hip to meet the velvety skin at her waist.

She made a small gasp and broke our kiss. "I am going to need a moment," she said, pulling away from me and rising to her feet. The air replacing the warmth of her was like a cool slap, and I kept my hands in my lap, afraid that they would, of their own volition, reach out to bring her back.

She let a hand trail against my cheek. "I'll be right back," she whispered and then padded into the adjoining bathroom. I turned my head away when I saw the light flip on as she entered.

I ran my hand through my hair. It felt coarse and straw-like compared to the exquisiteness of her skin. I looked down at my hands, flexing them, suddenly overcome with fear that they would somehow betray me and harm her. Sudden panic coursed through me. _What the hell was I thinking? I could crush her in an unguarded moment of passion. _

I jumped to my feet, starting to pace the room quickly, even as I was listening to the human sounds she was making on the other side of the door. _This is insane. I could kill her. I almost had already. Is this worth it, Edward? It's been so long since you've had a partner. What if you're no good at human sex? What if you scare her away?_

Insecurities suddenly filled me and I was frozen with dismay. Then the bathroom door started to open, and I hopped behind it, keeping away from the light. She flipped it off and looked around the dark room.

I had to ask. "Bella, are you sure this is okay? We don't have to now if …"

She turned to me; I was sure I was just barely visible by the faint illumination of the streetlamps leaking into the room.

Paralyzed by indecision, I watched as she raised her hands to the back of her neck, causing her breasts under the thin shirt to lift in the most enthralling way. She undid the clasp of her cross necklace, and very deliberately, removed it from her and placed it on the dresser.

"If this is a sin," she whispered, "let us sin together." And with that, I was in her arms.

* * *

A/N Thanks to the awesomeness that are my reviewers, you guys make me laugh, tear up, scold me, cheer me on. Thank you more than I can say.

Hey, The Eddie and Bellie Awards are up at http://www(dot)thecatt(dot)/tw/default(dot)aspx


	21. Chapter 21 Fusion

**A/N**

Time contraints have made it impossible for me to reply to all your reviews. Please know that I read and consider each one-its been a pleasure to write for you all.

Well, here it is my lovelies, pucker up. *sits back, bites nails*

* * *

**Bella**

I stepped out of the bathroom and flipped the light switch, plunging the bedroom into darkness. I stopped where I stood, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.

Edward's voice came over my shoulder. "Bella, are you sure this is okay? We don't have to now if…" I heard the uncertainty in his voice.

It was the same feeling I'd had as I'd looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if I was ready to open up myself in that way with a man again. _Is he really a man?_ I'd asked myself. He was in all the ways that counted, and I could certainly vouch for his human physiology at least because it called to me in all the ways that a man's body called to a woman. His scent, his broad shoulders and narrow hips all made my hands itch to feel him. Add the intangible qualities of a sense of controlled power, a diffident demeanor and a barely restrained dominance, and it created an undeniable desire for surrender in me. I wanted to put myself in his hands, to submit to his spell and drift wherever he would take us.

I'd picked up a hairbrush and run it through my hair a few times when the cross medallion on my necklace flashed in the mirror. I'd reached for it and held it in my hand as I'd watched myself.

The church told me that sex outside of marriage was a sin. Could I reconcile my faith with my desires? I'd fingered the medallion; it had a very stylized figure of Christ on the cross. Would Jesus condemn me? Everything I had read, all the stories that resonated in my heart told me that Christ's message was one of love. Love for God, love for man, love for each other. Could the man outside my door be exempt from that? How could I refuse him when he was so obviously deserving, and in the depths of my heart, I felt an undeniable connection, a mirroring of one soul to another. Was it so wrong to minister to each other's needs, even if that healing could be found in physical love? If he wanted me as I wanted him, I would meet him with an open heart and open arms.

I'd met my eyes in the mirror and acknowledged the underlying fear. Fear of being hurt, of being left again, even fear of being intimate. Would I let that fear stop me now when something so transcendently mysterious, seductive and beautiful waited for me?

I'd slipped my hand under the waistband of my shorts and fingered the ridge of scar tissue that was drawn under my naval like a smile. God had taken my ability to have children, but not my ability to love. I'd breathed a silent prayer, begging God to allow me the freedom to love Edward as he deserved, for I knew I would do so regardless. I loved God, I loved my church, but I saw a profound need in Edward that matched my own and was absolutely undeniable. As strong a claim as the church had on my soul, it now paled beside the consummate, incontestable need for the ethereal creature waiting for me.

I'd glanced back into the mirror and seen my mouth harden into a determined line. God had set Edward in my path for a reason, and I would be brave enough to follow my heart. And if this was wrong, then so be it. If I was already damned and in line at Hell's doorstep, then let me enter with memories worth burning for.

And with that, I had stepped determinedly into the bedroom, where I'd heard his voice, giving me the choice to stop or go forward.

Very deliberately, I removed my cross from my neck and placed it on the dresser, its silver chain whispering as it slipped though my hand. I turned to where his voice had come from, his figure just barely discernible in the darkness. "If this is a sin," I whispered, "let us sin together."

Instantly, he was in my arms, his lips on mine, both his hands in my hair as he captured my face between them. His lips moved across my face, kissing me, while I kissed him back wherever I could reach, trying to feel everything and quivering under his hands. My body started to sing with anticipation. I wanted, no, I needed to be close to him, to merge with him, and I was swallowed up in excitement and longing. Yet under it, I felt a knife's edge of fear for myself; I was figuratively jumping into the unknown with both feet. Only the certainty in the rightness of our pairing gave me the courage to let all other considerations fade away. My hand slipped around his waist, under his jacket, reacquainting me with the taut muscular lines of his back. As smooth as polished granite, yet I could feel the muscles sliding under his skin beneath my hand.

He stopped and rested his forehead against mine. "Bella, I want you so much. But I can't take what isn't given freely. You're sure this is what you want?"

I kissed his cheek and softly nuzzled the smooth skin on his neck, letting my nose slide along his defined jaw line. "Oh yes," I breathed. "Yes, I am." A thought occurred to me. I'd heard the uncertainty in his voice. I'd been so lost in my internal struggles, what of his? I let my hands drop from his waist. "And you? Are you sure?"

"Oh, Bella," he groaned, low and husky, and pulled me close to him. "More sure than I have ever been of anything."

With that, I was completely lost. His lips met mine as I hung on to him like a drowning man to a lifesaver, our arms wrapped around each other. His lips were soft and sweet, and they tasted me delicately as if he was savoring every flavor. We stood in the darkness, letting the sense of touch overwhelm us. My universe became the way he tasted, his hard body in my arms, the feel of his tender lips on my mouth and face. I felt myself mold to him like a wave to the shoreline. I could feel the rivets on his leather jacket through the thin cloth of my shirt and the rough fabric of his jeans against my hips and legs. His complex fragrance was filling my senses, surrounding me and hypnotizing me.

He broke our kiss to hold me close and stroke my hair as I pressed my head against his chest, taking deep breaths through my nose, reveling in his scent and letting my hands travel across his back. "I haven't done anything like this in a long time, Bella. I—I…"

I heard the vulnerability in his voice, and I raised my head, seeing his dark eyes clouded with doubt in himself. I would let my certainty of the inevitability of our togetherness carry both of us. I lifted a hand to his face, letting my finger trace the corner of his perfect mouth in the near darkness. "Well, I hear it's just like riding a bike…"

He chuckled, low in his chest. "Well, now that I am good at." His voice got serious then. "You must say immediately if I hurt you." I felt his hands flex behind my back. "My strength—I'm afraid…" he whispered softly.

The knife-edge of fear drew another line across my heart. I searched myself and realized that it was the unknown that scared me, not the thought of being injured in his arms. "I'll say so," I promised, letting my hands slip up his back. "But I don't think you will."

With that, he groaned and pulled me closer, his hands starting to travel up and down my back and sides. Everywhere he touched burst into sensation as if, in just that moment, it was brought into being, created under his fingers. It was sparking waves of need in me—need to feel his skin, need for friction, need to finish what we were starting.

"Bella," he breathed, and I could feel his breath catch in his throat. His words came out in short gasps, his lips brushing along my forehead. "I want… I need… Oh, god, your skin, it's like…" I raised my eyes to his. They were full of the same fierce desire and need I was being flooded with.

I let my head fall back as his lips traveled down my neck and shoulder, his cool breath sending shivers down my back. "Yes," I whispered breathily. Whatever he wanted, it was his. _Oh please, please, take it._

His hand trailed from my hair down the skin of my shoulder, the coolness of his skin belying the rivers of fire that seemed to burn my skin under his touch. As fluid as silk on glass, his hand went to my waist, slipping under the hem of my shirt, and I gasped as I felt it on the skin of my back. I stepped back from him, and with hands trembling with emotion, went to the hem of my shirt to pull it over my head.

"No," he whispered, putting his hand on mine. I stopped, unsure, searching his face. His mouth, his eyes were alight with passion, and when he looked at me from under his eyebrows, my knees nearly gave out. "Let me?" he asked softly.

I nodded slowly and let my hands fall to my sides. Beginning at the bottom of my shirt, his long fingers started unbuttoning the tiny buttons. I watched his face, but his eyes didn't rise from his hands, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly with concentration. I couldn't believe this angelic, ethereal creature was meant for me. His tousled hair, his dark eyes ringed with thick lashes, his prominent cheekbones and straight nose were so unearthly perfect. My breathing was ragged and uneven as I stood before him, barely able to keep upright against the waves of longing. He came to the top, where a narrow ribbon was all that was left to tie the two sides together. Achingly slow, he watched as his fingers gently pulled the satin bow, undoing it, while my heart pounded wildly in my chest. He groaned as his hand dipped inside my shirt, behind my waist, to pull me almost roughly to him while his other hand came to my head to cradle it as he kissed me again. He exercised such control, such restraint even as I was filled with nearly unbearable need to feel him all of him.

I was not even sure how I became separated from the rest of my clothes. I remembered running my hands along his shoulders and down his arms as his jacket fell to the floor, marveling at the perfection of his arms and hands. I remembered him kneeling on the floor in front of me as my shorts slid down around my hips and the tender way he kissed my scar as I ran my fingers through his hair.

He started on the zipper to his jeans, having shed his tee shirt and shoes. I stepped back to feel the bed against the back of my thighs, and I sat down on it, scooting backwards towards the head of the bed, watching breathlessly as his jeans dropped to the floor. As exquisite as he was clothed, he was only more so when naked. Like Michelangelo's David, he was breathtaking in his young, masculine beauty. The muscles of his arms, torso and thighs were sublimely defined; with his pale skin, he truly seemed an ancient statue come to life. My heart settled down into a deep, slow beat as time itself seemed to fall into a slow burning grove. Gone were the doubts, the fears. Now there was only the primal need to come together as man and woman.

I had almost reached the head of the bed, when there was deep rumbling from his chest, almost a feral sound, as his hand shot out and grabbed my ankle before I could slide farther backwards from him. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he pulled me back across the covers as handily as if I were a stuffed doll. His eyes never left mine as he lifted me easily into his lap. The shock of our skin meeting made me gasp.

I sat on his thighs, knees bent, my legs spread around his hips, my breasts pressed against his smooth, hairless chest. He held me to him with one hand, while his other hand roamed my hip and thigh, dipping to cup my buttock. I could feel the heat between my legs where we had yet to meet, his hardness brushing against my sex, sending waves of desire that culminated where we would come together.

"Bella," he whispered, kissing my neck and shoulders. "So beautiful…"

I might have answered, if I were anywhere near coherent, to tell him how sublime his hair felt in my fingers as I combed it from his face with my fingers, how gracefully his neck met his shoulders, how the small hollows behind his collarbones begged for my lips. I might have said how exquisite his round shoulders felt under my hands as I clung to him, speechless with need.

His hand rose to my breast and tugged at the nipple, making me sigh with the thrill of pleasure shooting through me. My whole body felt as keyed up as if an electric current were passing through it, and I tucked my head into his neck, panting with the voltaic feelings. Slowly, he bent me backward to bring his mouth to my breasts, first one, then the other, lips pulling at the erect tip and flicking his tongue across the nipple, forcing long, breathy moans from me. It was almost more than I could bear, and I ground my hips against him, trying to express the urgency of my desire.

Suddenly I was on my back, him hovering above me. I spread my knees wider around his hips and clawed at his back, arching my own, trying desperately to find the friction I was aching for.

"Bella," he breathed, "I need—please, be still."

That snapped me out of the erotic frenzy I had lost myself in. I studied his face, just inches from mine, and realized he was trembling with the force of his concentration. His face looked almost scared, and I realized how hard he was restraining himself. I nodded at him and made my breathing slower. "Whatever…you need…" I gasped.

His hand stroked my hair. "So beautiful," he whispered again and kissed me softly and deeply on the lips. I was panting with the effort to hold myself still when every nerve in my body demanded friction, hardness, and contact. Holding himself above me on his elbows, I felt his hardness gently push into me, and I heard a long, rumbling growl from him, even as I threw my head back and gasped. We lay there for a moment, both of us panting, becoming accustomed to the sensations of being joined together. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, fighting against the need to move, willing to let him take whatever control he needed.

And then he started to move, creating glissandos of pleasure that rippled through me. Slow, small movements at first, and then his hands curled around my shoulders, trapping me firmly under him. We found our rhythm, and with each advance, I was rising to meet him, each of us crying out softly with every forward movement. His thrusts got slower, longer and harder, and his hands left my shoulders to grab at the bed sheets beside them. I clung to his back, my legs wrapped around his hips, trying to draw him in further. The sensations were intensifying until the friction became the only thing in the world that mattered, and then, too soon, he groaned, long and drawn out, lost in pleasure. A shudder ran through him from shoulders to toes as he climaxed, while with eyes shut I clutched at him, riding the end of our passion, letting his pleasure wash over me.

I continued to move under him, milking what pleasure I could from our continued contact, not quite having reached an orgasm myself, while my nerves continued to sing with excitement, stretched tighter than piano wire.

He was still above me, resting his weight on his elbows, moving slowly in and out. "Bella, love," he whispered, gently planting small, soft kisses, on my cheeks, nose and eyelids.

"Oh, Edward," I cried, holding him closely and still highly keyed up.

He slowly pulled out of me, leaving me feeling vacant and gasping for more. He shifted to my side, glancing up and down my body. "Are you okay?"

"M-m-m yes, very okay," I said, turning to let my hand trace his arm and shoulder.

"No injuries?' he asked with concern, resting on his side, as I shifted to face him. His eyes were soft and tender. I couldn't help but run my finger along his sharply defined jaw line and across his neck where his Adam's apple nested.

"No," I laughed. "That's good, right?"

"Oh, yes, that's very good," he chuckled, and I could hear the relief in his voice. "I'm afraid your mattress didn't fare as well," he said with mock sadness.

I raised my head and then twisted to see where his eyes were focused. Just above where my head had lain, were two fist sized holes, gouged through the bed sheet and into the mattress ticking.

I sat up and twisted around to touch them with my fingers. "Dang." I looked at him incredulously. "You did that?"

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding very contrite. He rested a hand on my thigh, sending pulses of excitement up my leg. "I'll buy you another."

"Damn straight you will," I said lightly, scowling playfully at him.

"But there is something else we need to take care of first," he said, pulling me from my sitting position and toward him, until I was back lying beside him with our legs tangled together. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the gleam of desire in his eyes.

"What's that?" I asked, looking up at his perfect face. The glow from dawn was just starting to creep into the room, but his face was still shadowed with the night.

He rolled us, so I was on top of his firm, muscular body. He pushed the hair away from my ear, and bringing his cool lips to bear, whispered against it, causing shivers to run down my back. "You."

I could only whimper in response as his hands started moving on me, sending rivers of fire along my nerves. I was soon gasping again, while his hands and his mouth seemed to be everywhere on me. Wrapped in a fog of eroticism, I even lost sense of my position on the bed, until there was nothing but his fingers moving deftly against and inside me, the feel of his cool lips as they sucked and caressed my skin, his scent, his incredible scent, and his voice murmuring, low and soft. He held me against his hard chest, crooning softly in my ear as I came the first time, the rhythmic pelvic contractions so strong, I curled against him, crying out with the waves of intense pleasure.

When at last the pleasure subsided, I lay panting, on my back with his arms around me, my body still singing with the ecstasy. He traced a line down the middle of my chest with his forefinger, while I closed my eyes and arched under his hand. "Mmmm," I murmured, still groggy with the intensity of the climax.

"This has to be wrong," he whispered. I opened my eyes. His face was so immensely sad. "There's no way I deserve this."

I put my hand on his face, and he twisted to kiss the palm. "Edward, don't say that."

"I can't help it. Being here with you feels like I've walked into someone else's life. My life has been so dark for so long. I'd given up hope..."

"There is always hope," I whispered. "Even the darkest night gives way to dawn. We'll let the light in together."

"I see the light," Edward said, drawing the back of his finger down my cheek. "It's here in your face, and every time I look at it, I am blinded." He shook his head wistfully. "How can this be meant for me?"

I was addled with emotion. "Oh, but it is. It has to be. I've never felt more sure."

He put his hand on mine again, palm to palm. He watched as together our hands traced a circle in the air. "I would sacrifice everything, everyone for you." He looked at me, his eyes fierce. "Everything," he hissed.

My breath hitched in my throat as he gazed at me with those penetrating eyes. "I would never ask."

"Still, it is yours," he said, bringing my palm to his lips to kiss. His hands started moving on me again, until I was moaning with want and need. I was still dazed when he pulled me on top of him, positioning my hips and then lifting me and settling me on his hardness, so I slid down his shaft, moaning. He was in me deep, so deep; I'd never felt so open, so vulnerable and yet so protected and cherished. We were moving in rhythm, me rocking back and forth above him, while his hands wandered over my thighs. It was making love in the truest sense, a fusing of souls. I heard him whisper, "Everything, everyone," before his hands trailed slowly up my thighs and pressed just above where we joined. The sensations of being so open, yet so filled, overwhelmed me, and I gasped and shuddered, falling under the dark waves of my climax. He joined me then, his back arching under me and his head thrown back with a soft cry.

I lay curled against him, panting with exertion, my hair brushing along him until, with a long exhalation, I collapsed, resting my head against his steely, silky chest. Such an amazing collection of contradictions: so hard yet so soft, so powerful and yet so controlled. Even as satiated as I was, I couldn't stop my hand from roaming over the roundness of his shoulder, the long muscles of his arms, the delicate silky strands of hair on his forearms, the wide planes of his chest. "How did you get so beautiful?" I murmured, almost to myself.

He rolled us so I was lying half way under him. "More importantly," he said, "how did you?"

He ran his hand down my arm, laying it flat against the sheet and then traced his fingers up again, along my sensitive inner arm. His face was elegantly serene, and his hair was mussed in the most seductive way. My contemplation of his breathtaking looks was broken by the insistent feelings of his fingertips. I squirmed against him; the inner arm was a particularly ticklish area of mine.

"Ticklish," I breathed in response to his puzzled look.

He did it again as I squirmed once more, trying to tuck my arm against myself. "This makes you laugh?"

"Well, kind of," I said, giggling.

"Oooh, I like the way it makes you squirm." He smiled devilishly.

I raised my hand to his armpit, trying to tickle him in a couple places along his torso, but he just looked at me.

"Hmmm." I grimaced in frustration. "You're not ticklish?"

"Not that I'm aware of." He looked off in the distance for a moment. "Maybe…when I was a child…"

I sat up next to him, tucking my legs under me while he rolled to his side and rested his head on his hand.

"How about this?" I asked, trying a new place along his ribs.

"Is it supposed to be funny? I mean, it makes you laugh, right?" He was genuinely perplexed, and that was just vexing me, as I was extremely ticklish in places, a fact that my cousins had used unmercifully when I was growing up in Phoenix.

I tickled along the crease of his hip and underneath his knee, but he grinned and shook his head. I reached down to his foot and ran a nail along the bottom of his foot, checking back over my shoulder. He shook his head again. "Maybe I can't be tickled," he said, almost sadly.

I had one more trick to try. I gathered a clump of my hair in my hand, and with the tips of it, dragged it lightly along the underside of his toes. His foot jerked back sharply.

"I think I found a spot," I said mischievously, while his face registered surprise.

"Do it again," he said, presenting his foot. Again, I took the tips of my hair and just lightly dragged it under his toes. He started chuckling, which only encouraged me further, until I was brushing his toes furiously while he lay on his back, laughing wholeheartedly. Something in me right then blossomed outwards, though I didn't recognize it until later. It was shared joy and it cemented me to him. Watching as he lay on his back, in all his splendid nakedness, his head thrown back and body shaking with laughter, I felt more in tune with the universe, with love, with God than ever I had before.

His laughter rang in the small bedroom, as musical as chimes, as lovely as the laughter of children. I was immensely pleased that I had shown him something new about himself, and when he sat up and pulled me to his chest, he was smiling widely, as pleased as I was.

"I think I still want to explore this tickling thing on you," he said playfully, rolling me back down to the mattress so we were lying face to face. "How about here?" he asked, sliding a hand down my belly.

"No, that's ok," I breathed.

"How about here?" he said, while running his fingers lightly along the crease of my hip, instantly causing me to squirm and giggle.

"Yes, ticklish there," I confirmed.

"How about here?" he whispered, taking my breast in his hand, causing me to inhale sharply through my teeth.

"No, not ticklish," I sighed, arching my back.

"And here?"he asked, trailing a hand down my stomach to cup a hand between my legs.

In response, I threw my arm around his neck and kissed him.

Our joining this time was much more vigorous, more playful and yet more primal. The patter of rain had started outside the window, the black of night giving way to a dark grey dawn. We'd started in this lazy position on our sides while I threw a leg over his hip, joined together but just barely, letting the heat build again between us. Then we'd shifted so I was sitting on his lap, impaled on him with my legs wrapped around his hips, my arms around his shoulders, feeling him move slowly underneath me. We held each other's eyes, watching each other's faces as the sensations got stronger and more demanding, seeing the growing excitement reflected in our eyes, and hearing it in the shared small gasps and moans. I found that if I twisted in a certain way as he thrust upwards, he closed his eyes and inhaled, and each time he did, a thrill of ecstasy ran down my nerves. Joyous that I could bring such pleasure to him, I ignored the tickle of soreness that had started for the feelings were too good, too intense to stop. The humidity and the warm air created a trickle of sweat down my body and soon it was making our skin slide together in interesting, slippery ways.

Finally, the primal urge for completion took control and he'd slid us down to the edge of the bed. With my legs in the air, he stood on the floor, holding my ankles wide apart in a vee as I clutched at the covers beneath my hands, while he pounded into me again and again until the world contracted into a single spot inside me, and then exploded outwards. He curled over me, trembling with a cry that came from the depths of him. I clutched at his back, both of us carried along on the wave of ecstasy, until he came to rest on top of me, the two of us breathing heavily. I murmured to him, trying to soothe him as he shivered with the strength of emotions running through him. Something had been opened in him, leaving him vulnerable and almost scared, causing all kind of protective instincts to rise in me, as I stroked his forehead.

_My angel. He is my angel,_ I thought to myself, more sure than ever that God had meant for us to be together. This couldn't be a sin, not when it felt so right, as if the universe had finally aligned and was at last preparing to make sense.

We moved back up on the bed and held each other quietly, completely fulfilled, listening to the rain at dawn. I may have been dozing, when I heard him stir beneath my arms**.**

He kissed the top of my head. "I would like you to come with me to Vancouver. Will you come? Can you get away?"

"When?"

"Today—this afternoon. Sleep now and I will come get you later."

"Well, I am supposed to work tonight…" Even without raising my head, I knew he was waiting. He had yet to realize that if he asked me for anything, I could only helplessly give to him.

"Please," he said. "I would like to show you my house."

"You have a house in Vancouver?" I asked, raising my head and resting my chin on his chest so I could watch his face.

"It's one of several, but it's the important one. I'd like to share it with you." In the faint light of the dark morning, his eyes looked almost red.

"You have a couple of houses," I said, unbelieving.

"Yes," he said, like it was nothing to own a couple of houses. "I travel so much, it was necessary." He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You'll come then."

"I suppose I could ask Selena if she'll cover for me tonight." The coyness had been worth it, to watch as his face lit up with my assent.

He hugged me tighter to him. "There's so much I want to show you. One lifetime shall not be enough."

I sighed and rested my head back down on his chest. "One lifetime is all we have."

He kissed the top of my head again, but said nothing. Gradually, the patter of the morning rain lulled me into unconsciousness, and he must have slipped out of bed as I was sleeping. I faintly remembered him kissing my cheek and telling me that he had some things to take care of and would be back for me later. I couldn't say if I was dreaming or if it was for real when he whispered in my ear, "I love you, Bella." In my dream, at least, I whispered back, "I love you too."

* * *

To everyone who has reviewed, thank you!


	22. Chapter 22 Seeds Of The Whirlwind

**A/N **My thanks again to everyone who have favorited this, alerted this, recced me to their friends, and most of all reviewed. Your encouragement is what keeps me going forward when I am ready to start banging my head against the wall.

Special thanks to my betas, Stephanie Poo235 and Hellacullen for their wonderful support and ideas. Shout out of thanks to katmom for her ideas and support during the pre-posting phase.

Please come by the twilighted thread at http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=33&t=6149 I will be checking in and posting teasers and news when I can.

**Bella**

I awoke some time after noon as the sunlight streamed through the cracks of the window shades. I stretched in bed, feeling as relaxed and spineless as a cat. On the bedside table, I saw several rose colored asters tied together with a piece of string. Underneath them was a note.

_Dearest Bella,_

_I will be back this afternoon for you. _

_Never again will I curse Fate, for it brought me to you._

_Edward_

I brought the note to my nose, catching a faint whiff of his lingering scent on it. Fingering the asters and brushing them down my cheek, I remembered the sensations of his fingers there. Oh, that was a night, of all nights. It was the night I would remember when I was a dried up old lady of ninety, rocking away in my chair at the nursing home.

I twisted the sheet around me and slipped out of bed to my knees. I thanked Mary for bringing Edward into my life, and I asked for her guidance in bringing Edward back to God. I couldn't find it within me to ask for forgiveness for my actions of last night, because it hadn't felt like a sin. No, not like a sin at all. It had seemed more like a sacrament—a sacrament and celebration of the divinity of physical love.

The shower felt wonderful, and I let the hot water pound on my shoulders, hanging my head. I kept smiling, remembering his eyes, his hands, his mouth. I soaped up the scrubby and ran it over me, remembering how he had touched me. I was deliciously sore between my legs, a pleasant reminder of him, and the memory caused me to shiver with remembered pleasure.

Throwing on some clothes, I spied my cross necklace on the dresser. I had trouble with the clasp; for some reason, it wouldn't stay open so I could slip it together. I gritted my teeth with frustration, determined that I would get it around my neck. It must have taken a full ten minutes to finally get it where it should be. I pressed it against me as I caught my own eyes in the mirror, trying not to read anything into something as mundane as a sticky clasp.

I fed Darcy, who made an appearance from under the bed, and turned on the TV as I straightened up. I sighed, looking at the holes in my mattress. He'd done that with his hands–his marvelous, long fingered hands. So full of strength and yet so incredibly tender and, well, talented. He'd taught me things about my body last night that I had not known.

I was basking in afterglow; even the news on the TV couldn't bring me down. It was at times like this that I missed my mother the most. I would have called her and shared with her the news of the incredible new man in my life. We'd have laughed and chatted, and she'd have known exactly how I felt. Charlie was great and all, but not much for this kind of sharing. I moved around the kitchen while silently asking Heaven to hold Renee in its heart.

From the kitchen, I heard a news teaser, talking about the recent wave of gang-related violence. I took my cup of coffee and sipping it, leaned against the doorway, watching the screen. I nearly dropped the cup when the mug shots of two of my attackers appeared.

The names under the mug shots said Roland Deschain and Darryl Hunnings. Their mutilated bodies had been found, one not far from where I had been attacked and the other floating in Puget Sound. Gang violence was suspected, but autopsies were being performed. I turned away from the TV, my emotions churning. Some part of me was very glad they were dead; they deserved to die. They were scum, and I felt a lot safer now that they were gone. The other part of me chided myself for being so un-Christian like. But by far the largest part of me wondered how they had died. My mind skittered away from the possibility that Edward had some part in it their deaths. They were gang members, right? Those people died by violence all the time.

I stood in the middle of the living room, trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings, when a very familiar chugging came wafting through my windows. I knew that unmistakable and unique sound intimately, having lived with it almost every day for two years. I ran over to the window to see my red truck come down the street and turn into my driveway.

My truck! I got almost teary at the sight of the rusty red clunker that had been my father's welcome gift to me when I moved in with him and my sole mode of transportation around Forks. It had been rusting in the driveway of my father's house for the past month and a half while I tried to save money for the new engine it needed. Now, here it was in my driveway, purring like a kitten—well, as much as a truck of its maturity could.

My immediate glee was tempered, though, when I saw who the driver was. _Jake_. I took a deep breath and headed outside. The clouds were giving way to occasional bouts of sunshine and the air was getting crisper.

Jake climbed out of the truck and shut the door firmly behind him as I came down the steps. He turned around and smiled at me. Was it so wrong that some part of me still thrilled to see those full lips spread in that goofy grin? Although I could never forgive his actions, in many ways I still missed his friendship. His short hair made him look older and more serious, but he was still sort of beautiful in that dark, exuberant way.

"Jake," I said, somewhat stunned. "What are you doing here? My truck—you got my truck running?" I reached out and ran my hand along the hood; the metal felt strangely comforting under my hand.

"Happy Birthday, Bella," he said, grinning.

I looked at him, still unbelieving. "It's not my birthday for another couple weeks."

"Well, call this an early present then." He patted the fender of the truck fondly.

"Jake, I—I don't know what to say."

"Thank you would be a start."

"Well, thank you. Did you—what did you have to do to fix it?"

"Got a new engine from the junkyard in Bremerton." The pride on his face was unmistakable. "I rebuilt the carburetor too."

"A new engine? That must have cost you some money."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not as much as you'd think."

"Jake, really, it's too much. I should give you some money."

He scoffed, looking at me through those bristling eyebrows. "You want to give me money for your birthday present? I don't think so."

"No, Jake, really," I protested.

"Don't be stubborn, Bella," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm not taking any money."

"Oh, I'm the stubborn one?" I asked, scoffing back at him. I pursed my lips, stymied. "I'm speechless. Really. Thank you."

He spread his arms. "Can I get a hug?"

"Okay," I said hesitantly. I stepped into his arms, trying to make sure the hug I gave him was the sisterly kind. It was the kind of hug we gave each other back when we were friends, before everything had gotten so screwed up.

Stepping back, I couldn't help but wonder about his motives. "Tell me, why did you do this?"

He smiled disarmingly. "It's your birthday, Bella. I always do something for your birthday."

I frowned at him. I knew him better than that. "Jake, if this is—"

He stopped me. "Bella, if I could take back the last 8 months and get a do-over, I would. In a heartbeat. I've been a stupid, selfish ass, and you're the one who's had to pay for all my mistakes."

My jaw dropped in astonishment. He was sincere, and his words created a maelstrom in me. I had to move. I took a few steps past him, around to the back of the truck and gazed at the ground, trying to sort my feelings. Part of me wanted to yell, "That's right, asshole!" Another part of me wanted to collapse, crying, in his arms. He'd been my best friend for so long; the urge to let that happen again was irresistible.

His voice came from behind me. "I would never have asked you to stop the pregnancy if I'd known..."

_Why was being mature such a pain in the ass?_ I stared at the ground. "Jake, it's my body. Ultimately, the decision was mine." Unfortunately, the pain was too.

"I should have never..." His voice trailed off, and the two of us stood there in silence, each wrapped in our own grief. I stuffed mine back into the closet of my heart. I was too high in the afterglow of Edward to let it darken my day. I sighed and turned around.

He had his hands stuffed in his pockets. "I know I am a shit and what I did was unforgivable." I took a breath, unsure of whether to argue or agree with him. I saw him read the uncertainty on my face.

He rushed into his next words, before I could protest. "Bella, you know me as well as anyone. Did you really think I would do something like that without good reason?"

I took a step back, shaking my head. "You changed so much over such a short period of time. I mean, look at you. Even physically you're not the same."

"I know." His face got incredibly sad. "More than you know. If I couldn't be with you, it wasn't because I didn't want to."

I wasn't going to have this argument once more. "All right, let's just stop there. I'm not having this fight with you again. And you can't buy me off with my truck."

"I'm not trying to buy you off," he protested. Wistfully, he added, "We were friends once, Bella, before things got all fucked up. I would really like us to be that again."

I searched his face. His warm brown skin and dark eyes were as familiar to me as my own. Why was it so hard to say no to Jake? I sighed and looked at him. "Friends?"

He could sense my capitulation before I could. "Friends," he agreed nodding.

"Okay." I said, as he stepped forward to hug me again. I put my hand out to stop him. "Friends," I said warningly.

He spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "All right."

I turned to the truck to pop the hood. "So, show me what you did."

A half hour later we were sitting on my front stoop which was no longer damp from the morning's rain, while Jake brought me up to speed on the latest outings of the rez gang. "So, Quil's dad is like, 'you know the cup holder for the computer.' Collin says, 'Computers don't have cup holders.' And Mr. Ateara says, 'Oh yes, they do. Mine does.' Well, this we gotta see. So we go inside and Quil's mom is there all, asking us about what we've been doing, and we go over to the desk. Mr. Ateara hits the CD drive button and the little tray slides out and he looks at us and goes 'See? Cup holder.'"

I started laughing. Quil's dad was notoriously tech disabled.

Jake went on. "Well, at this point, Collin can't hold it in, and he starts laughing so hard, we practically had to carry him out."

"That's rich, a cup holder," I said, shaking my head as we finished chuckling. "I've got some cokes in the fridge, do you want one?"

"Yeah, that would be great," he said.

I paused, preparing to get up, but then sat down again. "How are you getting home?" I asked him.

"Paul's visiting his sister in Parkland. He'll come get me when I call." He noticed the chain dangling around my neck. "That's new," he said curiously.

I grabbed the cross pendant in my hand, hiding it from his eyes. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who has changed."

"May I see?" he asked while I reluctantly loosed my fist to hold the cross out as far as I could with the chain pulled around my neck.

He held it in his open hand, examining it. "It's nice. Unexpected, though." He looked up and his face was close, his dark eyes searching mine. "You were never religious before."

I raised my chin. "That was before," I said stiffly, sure he wouldn't understand my conversion. I couldn't stand the sight of pity creeping into his eyes. "I should give you Charlie's jacket to take back to him," I said, jumping up from my seat, as from inside I heard the phone ringing.

I left him on the steps and entered the door, picking up the phone in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"Hello." It was Edward's voice, and even through the phone, it made my spine tingle.

"Oh, hi," I said, curling my fingers in the phone cord. "Thank you for the asters."

"I would have gotten you roses, but there weren't any florist's shops around."

"I don't need roses. I just want you here."

"I'll be there soon. Believe me, I started missing you the moment I stepped out your front door."

"That sounds about right for me too."

"I'm borrowing the Camaro again. I should be there soon."

"Well, we could take my truck, if you like."

"Your truck?"

"Yes, my truck. A friend got it running for me and brought it by as an early birthday present."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll be counting the seconds," I murmured into the phone.

"As will I, Bella, as will I."

I sighed as I heard the line disconnect. Just the sound of his voice was enough to get me aching for him again. I hung up the phone and dreamily walked into the living room.

Jacob must have followed me in from outside. He was standing in the middle of my living room, his face scowling furiously, his fists clenched in rage. "Bella, I can't believe it."

"Believe what? What's wrong?" I asked, bewildered.

"Who was that on the phone?" he demanded, taking a step towards me. His black eyes were flashing with anger.

That was rather intrusive. Had he been eavesdropping? "Why do you want to know?" I asked suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

He grabbed my shoulders roughly. "Tell me that wasn't Edward Cullen."

I was shocked he put his hands on me. I glared back at him defiantly. "What if it was?" Was that was this was about? Boyfriend jealousy?

He let go of my shoulders and strode across the room, shaking his head. "Paul told me, but I refused to believe it." He whirled around and frowned at me scornfully. "But this whole place reeks of him."

"Reeks of him?" I was becoming alarmed. He was trembling so hard with anger, tremors were passing through him like waves. It was almost as if his outline was rippling. "Jake, you're scaring me."

"_I'm_ scaring you?_ I'm_ scaring you? What about Edward Cullen? He should be scaring the pants off of you." He stepped to the doorway to my bedroom and looked swiftly around, inhaling through his nose. He turned back to me, and his eyes were like black tar, flat and murderous. "Or maybe he already has."

Now I was angry _and_ scared. "Jake! What in hell is wrong with you?" I'd never seen him in such a fury. But he gave up any right to be concerned with whom I was dating months ago.

"Edward Cullen. What's he been doing here?" His voice was low and murderous. It sent cold fingers down my spine, but I refused to be intimidated.

I raised my chin and crossed my arms. "I'm trying to figure out why you think this is any of your business." The chill in my voice could have frozen ice cubes.

I could see him finally register my anger. He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. "Bella," he said, "you're in danger. Grave danger."

"Jake, listen to yourself. You sound like a comic book. Stop being ridiculous. Edward would never hurt me. In fact," I insisted, thinking back to the attack, "he's already saved my life."

"Saved your life?" He laughed harshly without humor. "Yeah, like you would save a turkey sandwich for a snack."

"It's jealousy, isn't it?" I threw the words at him bitterly. "That's what this is all about."

"Bella, it's about saving your life." He crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. "Edward Cullen is one of the most dangerous monsters to walk the earth."

I looked at him, unwilling to hear his ignorant comments. I headed across the room towards the door. "I'm not listening to this anymore."

He caught my arm as I passed, whirling me around. His dark eyes were glowering just inches from mine. "Believe me, I am deadly serious. Edward Cullen is part of a coven of the most dangerous creatures on earth." His voice dropped lower. "I'm not supposed to say anything, but you need to hear this." He looked at me, his expression deadly serious. "Bella, he's a vampire."

I searched his face. There was no denying his sincerity. I wondered whom he'd been talking to. The Jake I knew was a laid back, down to earth kind of guy. "I don't know why you're saying these things, but get out. I want you to leave."

"Oh, come on, Bella!" He rolled his head in frustration. "Wake up! Haven't you noticed anything odd about him? The cold skin? Have you seen how strong he is?"

I froze even as my mind started stuttering. The holes in my mattress. The way he'd held down grown men with just one hand. The feeling of his cold hands pressed against my back, my thighs. His cool lips on my face. No, absolutely not. Edward had been sent by God; he wasn't a vampire, of all things.

Jake pressed his point, still clutching my arm. He saw the sudden doubt in my eyes. "You've seen it, haven't you? The strength, the speed? Maybe he did something unexpected, unexplained? And you just ignored it like everyone else."

I shook my head. "Jake, this is not the movies. A vampire?" I remembered him talking about his family. "I suppose his whole family are vampires too," I said sarcastically.

He nodded, taking my comment at face value. "Now you're getting it."

I pulled my arm from his grip. "This is insane! Dr. Cullen and his family are all vampires?" I shook my head, heading for the door. "I don't know what you've been smoking at those tribal councils, but they shouldn't let you drive while you're like this."

"Bella! Damn it, girl!" He strode one furious step across the room and then back. "What will it take for you to believe me?"

"Try telling me something besides…insanity! The Cullens are a bunch of bloodsucking vampires living right in the middle of Forks?" I glared at him. "I suppose they've been stashing the corpses in their basement?"

"The Cullens are different. Why do you think we allow them to live in Forks? They're only allowed to stay as long as they keep away from humans."

This was getting crazier with every passing second. I couldn't even wrap my mind around it. "So, you're saying...What are you saying?"

"They live off of animal blood. They hunt, often and well. Weren't they out of school all the time?"

"Yeah, they are, like, big hikers..."

"Hikers, hunters. They've been decimating the game around the National Park for years now."

I shook my head. Dr. Cullen had seen me in the emergency room. He was a wonderful doctor. I could picture him in his white doctor's coat, the corners of his golden eyes crinkling with his smile. Golden eyes like Alice Cullen had, and Jasper Cullen. Even the older two, Rosalie and Emmett, had those eyes. Such an unusual eye color, but the whole family had it, even though they said they weren't related.

I stared at the floor, my mind racing furiously. Jake stepped closer. "I wasn't supposed to say anything, but this is it. I'm tired of trying to keep secrets from you. I've lost you once because of secrets. I won't let you die because of them."

"Well, this is one secret you should keep to yourself, Jacob Black, because it's crazy!" I shook my head. The Cullens were a family of vampires? I almost started chuckling.

He was stock-still, gazing at the floor. I shifted uneasily, waiting for him to laugh, say it had all been a joke. _Ha-ha, Bella, almost got you that time._ What a crazy jerk. I went for my purse; I would pay him for the repairs on my truck. There was no way I wanted to be indebted to him. Then he could just cart his sorry ass home.

His eyes watched me cross the room. "I know, Bella, because I am one of their natural enemies." He said it softly, but the effect it had on me was chilling. It sent shivers down my back.

I kept shaking my head. This was more than ridiculous. "Natural enemies is right," I said sarcastically over my shoulder. I rummaged through my purse, looking for the checkbook. "You keep spreading shit like this, and you'll be an enemy for sure."

I turned around, and he inexplicably lifted his tee shirt over his head. He'd filled out even more; his muscles rippled as he did so. "I am_ trying_ to save your life."

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked indignantly, my hands on my hips, still holding my purse. I stood there, flabbergasted, as he threw the shirt on the couch.

"My tribe, Bella, we're the natural enemies of vampires. It's a part of our heritage. It's the magic and the power that the land gives us." He bent over to slip one sneaker, then the other, off his feet. "This is what I've been doing, learning how to use that power." He stood up. "Don't you see? That's why I couldn't come to the hospital. I didn't have the control yet."

My mind started stuttering again. Pictures of Edward ran through my mind: his perfect looks, the power that seemed to pour off of him. The strength, the speed. The TV news detailing the deaths of my attackers. In my mind's eye, I saw the Cullens turning to look at me from their lunch table, all so different, yet with the same extraordinary eye color. I shook my head to clear it. "If you think there's power in you taking off your clothes, I have some news to break to you real quick."

His hand went to the fly of his pants. "It's why I didn't want a child. I'd just learned myself about how this is passed down. I was as scared and confused as you were."

My eyes felt like they were popping out of my head as I watched him unzip his jean shorts and step out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. I almost broke up laughing; they were the same smiley face ones I had gotten him for last Christmas. "Jake, really. Stop this. Put your clothes back on. I don't know what you're trying to prove."

"I am trying to prove to you, Bella," he said through gritted teeth, "that everything you thought was a legend is true. That the supernatural surrounds you. You've just been hiding your head under the sand like the rest of the palefaces."

He slipped the boxers off himself and tossed them on top of his tee shirt. He stood in my living room, huge and naked, built like a wrestler. "I am trying to save your life because Edward Cullen will take yours without so much as a second thought."

I shook my head. "You don't know him," I said, suddenly unsure, as something odd started happening to Jake's body.

"Stand in the kitchen," he ordered. "Don't get too close, you could get hurt."

The kitchen had a back door. Escape might be needed. I clutched the purse to me and sidled along the wall until I was on the other side of the kitchen doorway, propped against the counter.

His chin rose with something close to defiance. "You will believe me. Everything I am telling you is true."

Incredibly, Jake's body started _shimmering_. "What's going on?" I cried. Fear started shooting through me as I watched him raise his hands to the ceiling, reaching for it and then falling forward as his body expanded and changed. The hands at his suddenly elongated arms hit the floor, and his body started to puff up, doubling, tripling its mass.

I stopped breathing; my jaw dropped in horror as his form swelled and grew hair. Unconsciously, I raised my hand to my mouth, and my eyes grew huge, watching as Jake's face sprouted a muzzle and his ears migrated to the top of his head. My head started spinning, and I suddenly remembered to breathe, frozen as I was in dread and shock.

Where Jake had been, there was now a huge dog-like creature in my living room. _It's a wolf,_ some part of my brain whispered, watching the monster that nearly filled the room to overflowing. The huge creature gazed back at me. I couldn't move. I was literally shocked into motionlessness.

Then the ears of the giant, horse-sized wolf creature in my living room drooped, and it settled down to the rug on to its belly. It lowered its head and whimpered just slightly, while its tail wagged once, knocking the coffee table to the wall. The effect was like a gigantic domestic dog, and with that, the spell I was under was broken.

I had just enough breath for one chilling scream that rose up from my toes, through my body and out my mouth like a steam whistle. It seemed to go on and on forever, like some other body than mine was making it. Finally it stopped because I realized I had run out of breath. The monster in my living room slowly rose off its belly and took one step towards me. With a huge inward gasp, I whirled and bolted out the back door.

I stumbled down the back steps and fell to my knees, raking my hand on the cement patio. Jumping back up and still clutching my purse, I ran wildly across the yards of the houses adjoining mine, not even sure where I was headed. My only thought was to get away, run away. I looked back once over my shoulder, terrified I would see a huge wolf bounding after me, but the back door to my building stayed shut.

I ran pell mell, dodging lawn furniture, kids' toys and barbecue grills. I lost sense of my direction, but still I ran, trying to outrun the pictures of a giant wolf lowering its head, Jake's lips saying "natural enemies," the image of Edward's face, brutal and murderous as he held down with one hand each of my attackers, the Cullens watching me with golden eyes, and Edward–always back to Edward.

Still running haphazardly, I came to the main street, pausing as cars rushed by. I teetered on the edge of the curb, realizing I had run with no particular destination in mind. What was I going to do? Where would I go? My whole world had just shifted seismically from the nice cocoon I thought I had for myself, the facade of normalcy ripped away. With relief so great my knees almost buckled, I saw the spires of my church extending into the sky. I crossed the street, dodging the traffic, and ran up the stone steps.

I could have almost cried as I entered the nave, with its soaring spaces, hushed silence and the altar with Jesus' form on the cross, looking down with compassion. There was a noise off to my left, and I saw Mrs. Nelson leaving the confessional. Now was when I needed spiritual guidance more than ever, and I ran to it like it was a life raft in the middle of a churning ocean. I entered the dark confessional, closing the door behind me. I clutched my purse to my chest as I sat down on the bench and tried to compose myself.

The elaborately carved screen slid open. The Monsignor's voice was soft and compassionate. "Good afternoon, Bella."

I fell to my knees in front of the screen, curling my fingers around it. "You have to help me, Monsignor. I am surrounded by monsters." And with that, I burst into tears I could no longer hold back.

*******

A half hour later, the tears had left, leaving numbness in their place.

"Isabella, do you hear what I am saying?" the Monsignor was asking.

"What? Oh yes," I answered, staring blankly at the darkly paneled walls in front of me. "I must pray that I am removed from the clutches of Satan," I said in a flat voice.

"Until you make yourself right with God," the Monsignor said, "you will be beset by monsters, both real and figurative." He sighed, shaking his head. "I am sorry you had to learn of the existence of vampires. Your life is now in grave danger."

I sat on my heels, my shoulders slumped. My mind had gone into shock; I felt like I was watching myself from some great removed distance. Still, his words were so similar to what Jake had said, they caught my attention. I almost closed my eyes; that light-headed feeling was creeping up on me. "Danger?"

"These creatures guard their secrecy at all costs. Your life would be sacrificed without a second thought. You must consider going away for a while. You need to spend time in penance and–"

His voice broke off abruptly as I heard the door on his side of the confessional yanked open, the locked door splintering the wood framing as it was forcibly opened. I brought my face to the screen and felt my heart drop into my shoes. A silhouette of Edward's form stood in the doorway, the light from the church behind him so that all I could see was his shape. But I had no doubt that it was him.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a soft thunk as a piece of broken wood fell to the floor.

The monsignor crossed himself and then held up the crucifix he wore on the outside of his vestments. "Get away from me, you spawn of Satan," he hissed.

"Leave us, you doddering fool." I could hear the anger and rage in Edward's voice. I backed up into the corner of the booth, starting to shake with fear.

Edward stepped into the Monsignor's side of the confessional, and with one hand, picked him up by the scruff of his clothes and set him outside the door. I heard the footsteps of the Monsignor scurrying away. Edward's voice, harsh and contemptuous, followed after him like a curse. "Go, old man, write your letter, call your Roman friends. Give my regards to the Volterran crows. As surely as you plant the seeds, you will reap the whirlwind."

My gaze swept the confessional; there was no escape. The door to my booth swung open, and Edward stood there. His clothing was torn and ripped, and his eyes were ruby red. I felt the paneled walls beneath my palms and back.

He took a step inside and said softly, "Bella..."

For the second time that day, I screamed long and hard and with all my heart.

* * *

Thanks to all who have waited patiently, and please review!


	23. Chapter 23 Dances With Wolves

**A/N** So we last left Bella, screaming like an overheated pressure cooker in the confessional as she learned of the supernatural nature of the men she thought she knew. We go back a little bit in time now, to earlier that morning as Edward takes his leave of Bella after their night together.

**Edward**

_She's breathtaking_, I thought, gazing down on Bella's sleeping form. Perhaps her mouth was a millimeter too narrow or her chin a hair too small for the unearthly beauty of someone like Rosalie, but it was perfect in its imperfection. The humanity, the spirit that shone out of her face, was like a beacon in the darkness to me. I'd stepped out to find a flower for her bedside to accompany my note, and when I returned she was asleep on her stomach, her mouth slightly opened and her hair tangled around her face. So fragile, so vulnerable, and yet so brave. I'd told her I would sacrifice everything for her, and I meant every word. Whatever she wanted, whatever she desired, I would see that it was hers.

She mumbled a few incoherent words under her breath and then flipped over almost violently, her hand striking the bed. The sheet covering her slipped down her chest, revealing one perfect sienna-colored nipple, and I fought the temptation to bend over to take it in my lips and to wake her to make love again. And again. And again.

Instead, I straightened up and inhaled once more the exquisite fragrance that emanated from her. Mixed with the smells from our lovemaking, it was a heady mix of the earthy and ethereal. It set my throat on fire, but it was bearable. I could stand there inhaling for days, but I had things I needed to attend to.

I'd leave her now, letting her sleep, and when I returned, I would take her to my house in Horseshoe Bay, just north of Vancouver. I would show her my human past, reveal my present nature and, if things went well, ask her to consider walking through the halls of time at my side. This was all happening so fast, but it had to. How long could I hold out against her scent? How many more would have to die?

It was in my house there that I kept all the photographs, mementos and other memorabilia from my life, and I wanted to share these with her. I'd show her the pictures of me as a child. If she could see the humanity I had once had, perhaps she would be less frightened by the name my kind was given and more easily accepting of the change that had been forced on me. Perhaps she could see me as the man inside, rather than the predator. With her by my side, I could finally see a future that I wanted to participate in. We could eventually join my family and live as they did, finding lives with love and harmony.

I was beginning to understand what Tanya had said about sexual lust helping to moderate the bloodlust. Bloodlust was a solitary ecstasy. The blood rushed through you, filling your senses, burning away the world in its potency. But it was an ecstasy experienced alone, with only the slowing beat of another's heart for company. What I'd shared with Bella last night was ten times—a hundred times−more intense than that, not the least because the pleasure and the passion was shared. While she led me on, the heat between us built to incredible heights as her pleasure fed my own until every touch had become an erotic experience in itself and every gasp a whispered love song.

I spent the next few hours making calls and then visiting several different bank branches where I held my accounts, making large cash withdrawals at each. When I had collected sixty thousand dollars, I turned the motorcycle toward the direction of the tenements where I'd had my last meal.

I didn't know what impulse led me to return to the place of last night's feeding or to bring the money with me. I knew better than to think that money would assuage the grief for a lost son or provide me with any kind of closure or redemption for my acts. Still, I brought it with me when I parked the bike and found the apartment house I had visited last night. I checked the mailboxes in the foyer, finding the name J. Rosenthal, Senior on one. That was most likely my target.

Returning outside, I entered the alleyway, noting the window I had entered in last night was now closed. I waited a moment and opened my mind to those around me, listening to any who had noted my presence or were looking out the windows. When I knew it was clear, I zipped up the side of the building and popped the window out of the frame, entering the bedroom as I had last night. The lamp and the table had been righted, but the wallpaper still bore a long ugly gash, evidence of Jerry's struggle to live.

The old man, Jerry's father, sat in an aged overstuffed chair, his back to the doorway, watching a small television. The apartment was old and dingy, filled with books and papers. He sat slumped in his chair, wearing an faded plaid cotton shirt, suspenders crossing his defeated shoulders. His hair was thin and white and surrounded a bald spot on the back of his head like a monk's tonsure. Hearing my entry, he started to turn around.

"No, don't turn around," I said softly but with command in my voice.

He tensed, but stopped his motion and after a moment settled back into the chair, his hands clutching the arms. "It's you, isn't it?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the TV while I stood behind him. "You were here last night." His voice was wheezy with emphysema.

"Yes."

"Have you come for me this time?" A legitimate question, but he was probably safer from me than anyone else in this city. Wiping out a family was a sin I didn't want on my conscience.

"No," I murmured. "I only take the…evil ones."

"He wasn't evil, you know. He was sick. He'd been sick for a long time. It was those punks on the street corner…" I could hear the tears collecting in his voice.

Still, he needed to hear the truth. "He was going to kill you."

"He'd never hurt me."

"You know that's not true." I'd read Jerry's intent last night, and even now the old man was flipping through his memories of abuse suffered at Jerry's hands.

He started weeping. "He was my son."

"I know. I'm sorrier than I can say."

"Where is he?" he asked, pulling out a handkerchief from a pants pocket.

"The police will identify his body soon." One of my calls earlier had been an anonymous tip to the police department.

"His body…" He'd known Jerry had died before we'd left the apartment, but to hear it confirmed in this way brought physical pain to the old man. "It should have been me. I wish it'd been me instead." He bent over and started sobbing into his hands. In his thoughts were endless days of empty loneliness, those already spent and those yet to come. I knew that brand of loneliness achingly well, and I closed my eyes, swaying on my feet as the old man's grief swallowed me up.

I had no words of comfort I could give him. There was nothing I could do but bear witness.

Mr. Rosenthal ran the handkerchief under his nose. "When he was a boy, he loved to play Batman. Estelle would pin a towel around his throat and he'd run through the house, kicking and punching the imaginary bad guys." In his mind, Jerry was still a laughing, sly six year old, full of life and mischief.

I closed my eyes. This was it. This had to be it. I thought I had reached the bottom in the extent of my self-loathing before, but I hadn't realized there were still steps to be descended. The closer I tried to get to Bella, the farther away I became from deserving her. This was no way to exist. "He'll be the last, I promise you."

His broken sobs were tearing at me like lashes from a whip. He sniffed again. "He may not have been a good son, but he was my son."

"What was his name, his full name?"

"Jerome David Rosenthal, Junior." I could hear there was still pride in his voice and it was salt in my wounds.

"I will remember him," I promised softly. I would gladly have traded for the uncertain and faulty memory of a human, rather than suffer every day cursed with the sharp and vivid memory of a vampire.

"So will I," he said, his voice shaking with grief.

"There is money here," I said, dropping the bundle on a table. "I'm leaving it with you."

"Money? Money won't bring Jerry back."

"I know,"I whispered. "Still, it is yours."

"I don't want your filthy money," he said angrily, starting to turn around.

"Then give it away or toss it out the window."

He twisted in his chair and faced me for the first time. I could hear the surprise in his thoughts that I looked so young and yet so dangerous. His eyes were rimmed in red and bleary with old age and tears. He made a last attempt at understanding. "Why?' he whispered, and I knew he meant more than my monetary gesture, or even last night's violence.

I was perhaps the last creature to know God's mind and I answered almost angrily. "I don't know." Why was I, so undeserving, given immortality when so many innocents were snuffed out by the hundreds of thousands every day across the world? Sometimes I thought the endless cycle of painful, empty days and nights was a just kind of hell for one as inherently evil as I.

I left, slipping away invisibly back out the window. I got on my motorcycle, and headed back to Forks with the bitter taste of ashes in my mouth. More than ever, I knew that I had to stop this killing. Every victim, every name on my litany, had a mother and father somewhere. What I had been meting out certainly was not justice, but opportunistic vengeance, and even if my victims were the dregs of humanity, they were still human. I could feel the weight of their souls on my shoulders, and it was threatening to break me. I could only see one way out of the hell I had created for myself and its name was Bella.

I got home as the clouds started to clear up. Alice was waiting for me, sitting on the front steps as I pulled the motorcycle into the driveway and rolled to a stop. She had her arms around her knees while her painted toenails wiggled in the sandals she was wearing. Her cheek rested on her knee, and her short hair ruffled in the breeze while a forlorn expression played across her face.

"Hello, sister," I said amiably, trying to recapture the lighter feelings I'd had when I first had left Bella.

"Hello," she answered as I realized the house behind her was empty of any other family.

"Where is everybody?" I asked, setting the kickstand and dismounting the bike.

"They're at a meeting with the elder Quileutes." She frowned, and I heard the concern in her voice.

"Oh?" I asked, encouraging her to go on.

There was worry in her mind for the safety of the family. "They have some concerns about your presence among us."

_Damn._ I knew there would be repercussions from that meeting in the gas station. I climbed the steps before sitting down beside her. "_They _were the ones that got all riled up. I tried to remind them of the importance of the treaty for both sides."

She smiled at my slang. "Yes, well, they recognized the color of your eyes and that made them nervous."

"So, Carlisle has gone to meet with them?"

She nodded. "And everyone else went along for a show of strength and support."

"But not you?" That seemed unlike Alice. She might be petite, but she was never anything but brave and fearless, especially when it came to family.

"I wanted to, but there's quite a few of them now. They have some kind of mojo that just blocks me completely."

I could see in her mind as she tried to see into the future of the meeting with the elders. It was like walking into a sudden fog bank or a complete snow whiteout. It was disorientating in its sudden entirety. She rubbed her temples. "I get close to a bunch of them and it's, like, migraine time. Carlisle made me stay behind." She looked at me curiously. "They're in your future as well."

"Really?" That was not surprising. In fact, a part of me almost hoped for it. I'd never borne them any enmity before, but the fact that they had known Bella before I did set me on edge. She was_ mine_ now. I looked into Alice's mind. She saw me driving off in Jasper's car towards Seattle, but then the fog bank descended.

"So what was Carlisle going to say to them?"

"Well, what could he say? That you are under our protection and that the people of Forks are safe from you."

I sat down on the step next to her. "Will that be enough?"

She shrugged. "Carlisle can be pretty persuasive."

That he was. Years ago, I'd seen the way he reached out to Ephraim Black and crossed the divide that separated our species. It had been Carlisle's extraordinary diplomatic skills that had produced the treaty. "Well, I am going to get out of town for a few days. Maybe things can quiet down."

"Where are you headed?"

"I want to take Bella up to my house near Vancouver. I'm going to show her some of my childhood and past there." I couldn't help but smile at the prospect.

Her tawny eyes narrowed as she smiled back, but there was concern in her voice. "You think she's ready for the truth?"

"I hope so. She has to be. I don't want to rush things but I can feel time is running out." I felt like Dorothy trapped in the Wicked Witch's tower as the hourglass ran out. Too many different things were converging. "Let me ask you, do you still see her as one of us?"

I could see Alice fight the urge to look forward; there were some things she was trying to conceal from me.

I turned her chin gently so she would look at me. Her petite, delicate face reluctantly turned to mine, and when I looked in her eyes, she was unable to hide any longer. Bella's future branched out along so many different lines; most of them were hidden inside the blanketing fog banks of Quileute interference, but the few paths leading out of them were not good. Mostly, they ended with Bella's dead body lying in my hands. There were a few where she grew old along with the Quileutes, and finally there was one where I could see her smiling in my arms with the bright red eyes of a newborn.

I grabbed Alice's shoulders. "That's it! That's the one I want!" I exclaimed. "How do we get there?"

"Edward, I can't tell you." Following the path backward led directly into one of the fogbanks; it was impossible to see what decisions led to that fate. The throbbing started in again behind her eyes, and I could see her eyes close against the pain.

I loosed my hands from her shoulders. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to make you suffer."

Her pale face was drawn, and her eyes shadowed with concern. "I would help Edward, but I can't."

"I know," I assured her. I kissed her on the cheek. It was cool and smooth under my lips, so unlike Bella's heat and softness.

"So Jasper was okay with me taking the Camaro again?"

"Sure, the keys are in it."

I stood up and turned to go in the house. "Please tell him thanks for me."

"Edward..." She took a breath and then spoke without turning to face me. "What would you do if Bella refused you?"

I stopped on the steps, while a cold chill ran through me at her words. I searched her mind, but she knew better than anyone how to keep me out of it when she wanted. "Have you seen something?"

From behind her, I watched as she shook her head briefly, setting her short hair dancing. "I love you, Edward." She turned to look at me. "I'm worried. I see you hanging all your hopes on one fragile human…"

I closed my eyes. Just thinking about having to return to the nomad life or even just being the solitary person in a household of paired members made my throat close with pain and longing. "That won't happen," I whispered. "I won't let it." I entered the house, determined that I would have Bella with me forever, damn the cost.

Several hours later, I telephoned Bella, imagining that she would be awake by now. Her voice made me weak in the knees, like some kind of lovesick schoolboy. I couldn't tell which emotion was stronger, the strength of my attraction to her−so that she had become the center of my universe−or the incredulity that she was returning my affections.

It was when she said that a 'friend' had dropped off her truck, a truck that had been just fixed, that the alarm bells started to ring in my head. I hung up the phone, thinking furiously. Alice had seen that Bella's immediate future was hidden from her. The only reason for Bella to be hidden was if a Quileute was with her. The uneasiness I felt grew larger and larger. A Quileute boy was the one who had made her pregnant and hurt her so badly. I was out the door and running eastward before I even realized my intention.

I started to think as I ran, trying to find the source of my sudden panic which was so great that I had abandoned my plans to take Jasper's car. Even the motorcycle was too slow for me. I wanted to be with her _now._ I had no idea what lies the Quileutes would fill up her head with, but I would hold her hand and remind her of the undeniable connection that had grown between us.

The trees started blurring together, and still I pushed to run faster. Blasting through mature trees like a bulldozer through saplings, nothing could slow me; no obstacle could stop me. The uneasiness continued to grow, spurring me on until I was running faster and faster, leaving a trail of destroyed vegetation in my path like the wake of a small tornado. I swam when I needed to, faster than a cigarette boat, ignoring the danger of being seen.

I reached Bella's neighborhood and slowed, walking cautiously up to her house. The caustic smell of shape shifter saturated her front yard. I passed an ancient red truck, reeking with the acrid aroma. _This was how she traveled? Might as well walk._

I climbed the front steps and called Bella's name through the screen door. I could hear the thoughts of the shape shifter in there, but where was Bella? If he had hurt her...

I yanked the front door open almost ripping it from its hinges, and entered her apartment. The Quileute stood in the living room, taller than I, built impressively and dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. He was brown-skinned with short, bristly black hair and dark eyes, and his straight eyebrows were drawn into a furious scowl. He dropped into a defensive crouch and I noticed his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent, recognizing it immediately.

In his mind, I saw the pocket of my shirt that the Quileute gang had ripped at the gas station. That's what had created the need for his impromptu visit with a suddenly repaired truck. My anger exploded inside me, and I struggled to keep control. I had no desire to start a war between the Quileutes and the Cullens, but I would brook no interference between Bella and me.

"Where is she?" I hissed.

Crouching, he said nothing, just continuing to watch me, but I could pick the answer from him unwillingly. I gasped when I saw how he had phased in front of her and how she had run screaming from him.

"You phased in front of her?" I snarled. "And scared the shit out of her?" I listened as his mind reeled back to the conversation that included him naming me as a vampire.

"You leave her the hell alone," he growled at me, his outline starting to shake.

"You told her?" I couldn't believe it. He'd broken the treaty without a thought. "You told her everything, and when she refused to believe you, you phased in front of her?" I was stunned into motionlessness. In one fell swoop, he had destroyed everything I had been working for with Bella.

A shadow of confusion crossed the shape shifter's face_. How is he doing that? It's like he's reading my mind._

I shook my head, thinking furiously as to how to make this right with Bella. "Yes, you fucking idiot!" I spat at him over my shoulder as I crossed the living room. "I can hear every word of every puny thought that flits through your brain." Christ Almighty, she'd left screaming. I stepped to the back door, but there was no sight of her. The poor girl was probably a basket case. And because of this dog. I turned back to Jacob.

"Jacob, that's your name, right? Do you have any idea of what you've done?" Bella knew. She knew everything and she had run screaming.

"I've told her the truth about you and your whole fucking family! And you! I've heard about Edward Cullen, the bad Cullen, the killer Cullen." He saw my red eyes and they filled him with contempt.

"You fucking fool! You've just signed her death warrant!"

"You'll never touch her!" he bristled.

"Ha! I'll be the last of her worries! What did you think? That those in power are going to just let her walk around with this knowledge? You have killed her as surely as a knife to the heart."

A flash of uncertainty crossed his mind, but he hid his doubts. "We can protect our own."

"Oh you can, can you? You have no idea of the sleeping dragon you are waking." The idiot didn't realize the power wielded by the Volturi. With Caius's supposed antipathy towards wolves, bringing Volturi attention to the Quileutes could well be their undoing. "Your whole tribe will be destroyed. It'll make Wounded Knee look like a tea party."

"I don't care if a thousand of you leeches show up! We know how to take care of your kind. I won't let you hurt Bella."

"Me hurt Bella? I didn't impregnate her and then leave her to the butchers' knives!"

His anger and shame made him mindless. Unthinking, with a roar, he flew towards me, quicker than I imagined. His momentum carried both us backwards as we grappled, crashing into the sofa, flipping it before I brought my foot between us and shoved him flying across the room, through the doorway into the bedroom where he slammed against the bed. He pushed himself away from it at the same time as his body exploded.

I jumped to my feet in a defensive crouch as his clothing burst outwards in shreds, and a huge wolf suddenly shook itself as the last of the shimmers accompanying his transformation traveled from nose to tail. He stood on just the other side of the doorway, huge and brawny, his lips curling as a thunderous growl traveled up through his chest into a savage snarl, revealing canine teeth longer than my hand. The Quileute in his human form would have been easily dispatched, but this monster would be challenging, especially in this small space, where his brute mass would cancel out my superior speed. I saw his back legs tense and then he sprang forward, taking out the edges of the door frame with his huge bulk as splintered wood went flying. It didn't even slow him, however, as he bounded toward me, his white teeth snapping.

I waited, listening to his intentions, until he was almost upon me, and then with clasped hands backhanded him across the muzzle. He went flying in an arc across the room, smashing the TV set to the floor and crushing the bookshelves. The walls bounced with his impact and the picture on the wall above him jumped from its nail and crashed onto the wolf's back.

He got up a little slower this time, and I could hear him start to strategize in his mind. Now was when he'd become even more dangerous as he used his mind to augment his speed and strength. Growling, his lip still curling, he rose to his paws. Staying just out of range, he shuffled to the left and then the right, testing my defenses in the cramped room of the apartment, stepping through the pieces of Bella's broken furniture like they were matchsticks. I crouched, watching him and shadowing his moves, acutely aware of his long teeth. These shape shifters were probably the only living things that were a danger to vampires, besides other vampires. The deep, rumbling growling emanating from his chest matched my own.

I could use his anger against him. It would make him too quick to attack, too full of rage to think. "You had Bella and you tossed her away," I hissed. "Tossed her away like she was nothing."

_Not true. Lies. Always lies from your kind._ The growling and rumbling in his chest grew louder, though, evidence that my words were hitting home.

"She_ is_ mine, dog. We spent all of last night together. She said I was the best she'd ever had," I taunted, trying to make him lose control.

_NO! _His rage wouldn't let him listen any longer. He pounced again, incredibly fast, driving me against the wall, my body denting the plaster deeply. I grabbed at the fur on his ruff while his deadly jaws snapped just inches from my face. Desperately I held him off while his superior mass pushed against mine, bringing his long, sharp, glistening canines closer and closer.

Finally, I threw him off, but not before he twisted, raking his teeth along my arm, shredding the sleeve of my shirt and ripping long tears in my arm. _Time to take this outdoors,_ I thought, where I could use my superior speed. I counter-attacked him as he stumbled against the overturned sofa, punching him once in the ribs. I was rewarded by the crunch of bones as ribs cracked against the force of my fist.

He whirled, bringing those fierce teeth too close to me. I stumbled backwards, dodging them by inches. Turning around and pushing off furiously, I dived through the kitchen, exploding through the back door like a cannon ball. Curling into a ball as I landed in the back yard, I heard the glass and wood following my momentum into the yard, tinkling around me as I pulled out of the somersault.

I rose and, crouching, faced the splintered door where he stood just inside the apartmen looking out. He was aware that it was still late afternoon, and the yards of several other houses abutted this one. Even now, I could hear the thoughts of some of the nearby neighbors wondering about the crashing sounds coming from Bella Swan's duplex.

Ha! I could be easily dismissed by onlookers as a rowdy teenager, but the appearance of a giant wolf in the neighborhood would surely raise some eyebrows.

_Hold on Jake! We're coming! _I took a half step back, astonished at the sound of other voices inside the wolf's head. _He's here at Bella's,_ Jake answered the voices. _We're fighting._

_On our way. Save a piece of him for us. Fucking filth. _There were several other voices inside Jake's head. I'd never realized the shape shifters had telepathy in wolf form, and it must be over surprisingly long distances, as their thoughts indicated that some of them were back in Forks. There were several that were closer, though, and their thoughts winked out as they phased back into human form to rush to Jake's aid.

"Stay here, you cowardly mutt, while I go find Bella. I'm sure the elders will be interested in how you broke the treaty," I sneered.

The giant wolf growled low in his chest_. You broke the treaty the minute you entered Forks. She knows what you are now. She'll never accept you._

"We'll see, won't we?" It was just too easy to taunt him. "She had a taste last night, she'll be back for more," I jeered with a confidence I didn't have. I had no idea what kind of reception I would receive when I caught up with her.

Again, my words had pushed him over the edge. Without forethought, he sprang from where he was, flying across the small bit of yard before I anticipated. I leaped to the side but not fast enough; his shoulder caught me, and I was bowled to the ground, even as he was thrown off balance.

Like choreographed dancers, we jumped up together, and I could hear his internal wince at the pain of his damaged ribs. Here in the yard I could move, and like a fighter, I danced in and out, dodging his snapping teeth, landing a kick on his shoulder and then his back haunches. Even through the pain of the punishment I was meting on him, he continued to try attacking, but each time his jaws would close on the space which I had just left. Finally, he stood, a lupine monster incongruent in this urban back yard, panting heavily, unable to move with the broken bones. I delivered one last massive kick to his side, and he fell heavily over, unable to rise.

I approached him and stomped once more on his shoulder, hearing his bones crunch satisfyingly under my foot. "I will leave you alive, dog, because Bella wishes it. Just remember you owe her your life."

In his head, I heard the voices of the others as they realized that Jake had been bested. _He's down! Faster, we must be faster! I swear, I'll rip that bloodsucker apart bit by bit. If Jake is harmed, I'll kill that leech and then Bella for her part in this!_

Threats to Bella? Suddenly, I was scared for her. If war was starting between the vampires and the Quileutes, would they assume she had picked sides? What would they do to her?

Crumpled on the lawn, Jake whimpered slightly, his thoughts incoherent. Just before unconsciousness took him, the shimmering I had seen earlier started again, and I stepped back in amazement as his form shrunk and diminished into the curled form of a naked young man lying on his side.

Quickly, I surveyed the area. We had attracted more than a little notice; several souls were peeking timidly from behind their windows, dumbstruck by what they saw. It was well past time I was away. I looked down at Jake's broken body; he'd have some healing to do, but his heart was still strong and even now his tribe was coming to his rescue.

I closed my eyes and, breathing deeply, surveyed the area for Bella's scent. She had passed through here not long ago, and I started to follow the trail of that scent, running through the neighborhoods, following that aroma, still beautiful but tainted with the fear and panic she'd been feeling.

I came to a busy cross street, and a jolt of fear for her passed through me as I caught sight of where her scent trail headed. _Damn._ The last place I wanted to see her spilling secrets. _The church_.

* * *

Thanks everybody for sticking with me through hiatus! Please leave a review?


	24. Chapter 24 Delivering The Wind

My betas have worked so hard to help me with this story. Please blame any errors on me for editing after they'd had a chance to review. Lauracullen and Poo235, I am so thankful you guys have my back.

Shoutout of thanks to SSherrill for reviewing this story on her Southern Fanfiction Review. See my profile for the link.

**Edward**

I stepped into the confessional, and Bella screamed with the wild, high-pitched keening of a rabbit caught in a snare. The woman who had laughed, sighed and moaned in pleasure under my hands last night was screaming at the sight of my face. A pang of regret as deep as a bayonet wound ran through me because I had allowed that miserable Quileute to live. I pushed down the desire to run back to Bella's to finish punishing him for his inconsiderate and ill-timed attempt at keeping Bella away from me. He'd broken the treaty recklessly, and I hoped the consequences he faced would be harsh.

Bella was backed into the farthest corner, trying to squeeze herself into the smallest space available. Her brown eyes were wide with panic and fear, and I could hear her heart beating as rapidly as that of a captured bird. At the same time, my heart felt like it was shattering into pieces, tortured by the thoughts of her being in fear and that I was the cause of that fear. She turned to face the paneling, her hands spread wide and her eyes squeezed shut, like she was trying to press herself into it.

I dropped to one knee, my hands clutching at the pain that was filling my chest. I curled over, trying to make myself as small and as unthreatening as possible. "Bella, please…" I pleaded softly, unable to bear her abhorrence.

A spasm ran down her back, and her eyes squeezed tighter together.

"Please, talk to me. The names—they're just labels. Please look at me," I implored her. "I'm still Edward."

She struggled to get a hold of herself. Her breathing began to slow, and she slowly turned around. I kept my eyes on her feet, fearing the color of my eyes was what was most inhuman looking.

"Please, let us talk. Please. I won't hurt you. I can't." I could feel her gaze on me. "I'd never hurt you, Bella." I closed my eyes against the pain I was feeling. To have to reassure the woman I loved that I wouldn't hurt her made me feel like a part of me was dying all over again. "You're my heart," I whispered, trying to tell her what she meant to me.

The room was silent as I waited for my fate to make itself known. Finally she spoke. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know what they say about you?"

I still hadn't raised my eyes, and I watched her black canvas sneakers shift slightly "I know what Jacob told you."

Her voice was stronger, but I could hear how it trembled. "He says—the Monsignor says that you…that you're …"

The silence stretched and lengthened. Finally, I spilled words into the chasm separating us. "Yes, I am," I said, answering the question she couldn't ask.

She whispered. "Say it."

I raised my eyes to her face. Her eyes were preternaturally wide and dry-eyed, her face pale. She'd lost her struggle to keep calm, and her chest fluttered with the quick shallow breaths she was taking. Trying to hold her eyes with mine, trying desperately to make her understand that this was only a name, I whispered in answer. "I am a vampire."

The four words that I had dreaded saying to her felt like they were torn in chunks from my skin, leaving me red, raw and bleeding. Never had I been so ashamed of my nature; never had I felt more naked and vulnerable. I would have given anything in that moment to be able to deny it.

"No, no. It's not true." She was shaking her head. "Tell me it's not true."

I lowered my head, closing my eyes in pain, giving her the only answer I could. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, God," she cried, closing her eyes and turning back to the wall. "Oh, God," she repeated, her balled fists pounded once on the paneling.

I stood up. I had to make her understand. I took a small step closer. "Bella, you don't know how many times I wanted to tell you. I know this is a shock, but we're not as different as you might think." My words came tumbling out fast, tripping on each other's heels. "I told you I was born in Chicago, that's true. I was as human as you. But things changed−I was changed−but I'm still one of you in many ways. Can't you see that?"

Her eyes opened again, and her fists relaxed. Her head wobbled a bit.

"Bella, please, listen to me before you judge. I love—"

"Jacob?" she asked, her eyes not fixed on anything, weaving slightly on her feet.

"I left him alive," I reassured her, but it was evident she was starting to lose her battle to keep conscious.

"Jacob's a…" Her hand went out to the wall, looking for support. Her heart was racing in short, shallow beats.

"A shape shifter." I finished the sentence for her. It was evident she was going into shock. My hands itched to support her, but when I made a small move toward her, she twitched violently. I backed a step away, keeping my hands low, trying to reassure her with my body language that I wouldn't hurt her or force her.

The talk of Jacob made me open my mind to see if I could get some thoughts from him, to check on his well-being. If I hadn't spoken with him before, I would have never been able to find his thoughts from this distance, but once I became accustomed to the tenor of someone's mind, picking them out from a crowd or a distance became easier. He was awake, but just barely, his thoughts hazy with pain. Several Quileute friends surrounded him and were taking care of him as onlookers stood some ways away. "Don't worry, Jake," said one I recognized from the gas station, "we'll get them."

Bella's eyes were still unfocused, her head tilting to one side.

"Bella, we need to go. They're coming here after us." I knew they would be after me, but I couldn't gauge what their reaction would be to Bella. I had to protect her from them. I could see how Jacob had already traumatized her.

"They're coming here after…." She parroted my words, but it was too much for her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her knees gave out. I caught her before she hit the floor, and she went limp in my arms.

We had to flee. One Quileute was easily handled, but with more coming and Bella so vulnerable, it was time to leave.

I swept one arm under her knees, and clasping her gently to my chest, stepped out into the empty nave. Laying her in a pew, I pulled down a tapestry on the wall. I wrapped her gently in it; she would need the protection because I planned to run with her.

As I rolled the fabric around her, she murmured and moaned without opening her eyes. "Sleep, Bella, sleep," I whispered, using the low commanding voice that humans were susceptible to. I gathered her into my arms and pushed out the front door of the church.

The sun was low in the sky. We had to get out of Seattle and quickly. I dared not take one of the bridges; we'd be exposed to too many eyes for too long. North, then, would be my route.

Keeping to the vegetation when I could, sprinting when I couldn't, even using the rooftops when their nearness provided a route, we made it out of Seattle, into Lynnwood and finally Everett, where the forests were deep and connected enough that I could run uninterrupted. I kept my mind open to the Quileutes, but I'd lost them some time ago. Now was when I needed to put some distance between them and us. With the onset of night, they would be less wary of being seen and could adopt wolf form more readily. It was in wolf form that they could track me most effectively.

I ran through the forests, heading steadily northward, afraid to go too fast in case the wind had some deleterious effect on Bella. Nervously, I kept checking on her, but she was truly unconscious, her mind having shut down in an attempt to protect itself from more shock. We were outside Vancouver when I hailed a taxi. Even if the Quileutes could track me into Canada, they'd lose my scent this way. I gave the taxi driver some story about her being ill, and he took us all the way to my house, a small Victorian home on a secluded lot overlooking the water.

The waxing moon hung low over the horizon as I pushed the money into the cab driver's hand. He asked if I needed his help with Bella, but I reassured him we would be fine. I faced the dark house as his headlights snaked back down the long driveway back to the main roads.

I had bought this house with the money from the sale of my parents' house in Chicago. I would have liked to have held onto that house, but there were too many people who might have recognized me. I had found this one on a trip with Carlisle, and I had moved all of my parents' things into it, all of the various items that had been accumulated during my human life.

I pushed open the front door; the house was quiet, except for the patter of mouse feet in the attic. I'd have to call tomorrow to get the electricity turned on, but the pump was hand cranked so we would have water. I debated for a moment where to place Bella, finally deciding on the guest room. To put her in the master bedroom seemed too presumptuous.

I laid her on the bed while she remained unconscious. Her brown hair streamed out from the pillow, and her eyelashes brushed her cheek delicately as I arranged her arms and legs. I stood there, looking down at her slender, unprotected form. Which one of us was more vulnerable−Bella, in her fragile human form, or me, bound to her by forces I didn't even understand?

What was it about her that was making her so essential to my continued existence? Surely there had been more beautiful women tossed in my path, and while none of their minds were silent as hers was to me, was it just the unknown that made her so desirable? Her scent certainly beckoned me to her, but I was beginning to believe that her scent was not the cause of her attraction, but a symptom of it. Her attraction was the basis for the fascination I had for her scent. Was it the promise of being mated that made her so necessary to me? Again, that seemed to be a part of the answer but only partially. It seemed all of these things were just bits of the answer, none of them alone enough to explain, but together they more than added up to my total bewitchment by her.

Her breathing and heart rate quickened slightly. I watched her chest rise and fall, remembering how it had felt pressed against me. Would I ever again be favored enough to know her caresses? To hear and feel her moan into my mouth with the strength of the pleasure I would give her? There had to be some way to persuade her. There just had to be.

While my mind cast about for a way to guarantee her affections, my heart already gave me the answer. There was no guarantee in love. I couldn't make her love me. The only thing I could do was try to be worthy of her love, and that was such a foregone negative conclusion that I almost laughed aloud bitterly. What made me think I deserved anything as pure, as decent as Bella? I was death by violence, murder in cold blood, and the destroyer.

If I could have prayed, I would have done it then. I would have asked God to show me some way to turn back into the boy I had once been, before Carlisle had changed me into something I had taken and twisted so badly that I was unrecognizable to myself. But there was no prayer that I could offer. I was sure that God didn't listen to the prayers and entreaties of the undead.

I started a small fire in the fireplace of the bedroom, assuming she would want some light when she came to. I fetched a pitcher of water and a glass and set them at her bedside. I'd have to see about getting some food for her soon. Hopefully, she would agree to stay here until we could negotiate her safety, if need be, with the Quileutes. I would also have to find a way to silence the Monsignor.

Soundlessly, I stood back against the wall, watching Bella sleep from a dark corner, as I waited for my fate to wake up and be delivered to me.

* * *

Back in Seattle, the Monsignor paced his quarters, attempting to process the unbelievable events that had occurred earlier that day. His vestments rustled with each stride, as he pondered his options. Delay would only increase his cowardice. Resolving himself, he sat down at his desk and began to craft his letter.

From the Desk Of Monsignor Sergio Corvi

Our Lady Of The Waters Parish

Seattle Washington 98124

CONFIDENTIAL

To Father General Emilio Bartoloni

Benedictine Monks

Vatican City

Rome, Italy

Dear Father Bartoloni:

My most sincere greetings to you and my wishes that my letter finds you well. I remember with great fondness my visit to Italy and your gracious hosting, and I long that I may again partake of your kindness soon.

However, I am afraid the cause for this letter is an unhappy one. You had asked me, at the time of my visit, to keep an ear open for any news of the unholy monsters that roam our earth, in defiance of all God's intentions and as servants of the Devil himself. You had mentioned in particular the name of Cullen, which served as a family name for a coven which was known to have been established in the Seattle area. I must admit I had been extremely skeptical of the whole idea when first it was presented to me, but after meeting your honored colleagues in Volterra, and now being in possession of my current news, I must say I have become an ardent believer.

I believe I have met such a creature as you described. He has obviously ensorcelled one of our young female parishioners, and he had the audacity to even attend one of our services! I instantly suspected him for the monster he was, but it was when the young parishioner learned of his true nature that she, of course, sought my advice, only to have the monster spirit her away. I gave him a tremendous battle, but unfortunately, his strength was too much for me and I was subdued. Therefore, I plead with you to render the help you had once offered me should I become aware of such a monster in the Seattle archdiocese. I beg for your immediate assistance in ridding ourselves of this nightmarish coven.

I trust that you will remember your promise to advance my name when a position becomes available in Rome, and I hope this letter proves my steadfastness and my discetion. I remain your servant in Christ, and please give my regards to our mutual friends in Volterra.

Very truly yours,

Monsignor Sergio Corvi

* * *

A/N Ooh, that Monsignor!

Next weekend between Jan 15 and Jan 18, Support Stacie Foundation is having a Vampire Author Auction, and I will be up for bids! May I write you a Twilight One Shot of your choosing? Perhaps you'd like an outtake or a prequel from a Litany at Dusk that you select? Many fabulous authors will be up for sale, so please consider opening your wallet for a very worthy cause.

And as always, your reviews mean so much and keep me motivated and engaged.


	25. Chapter 25 Before The Fire

A/N Ms Kathy is selling a compilation of author entries with over 170 fanfic authors to benefit the Haiti relief effort. See details here:

mskathyff(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2010/01/haiti(dot)html

Bella

I moaned as I struggled toward consciousness. I heard Edward's low melodic voice near my ear saying, "It's okay, Bella. You're safe."

With my eyes closed, I turned my head towards his soothing, velvet tones. "I was having the most awful dream…" I said, opening my eyes. Edward's beautiful face hung just inches from mine, his face deeply shadowed in the dark room. I placed my hand on his cool face, his skin smoother than glass. The dim, flickering light played across his face, creating an orange glow, warming the tones of his skin.

It was the wrong kind of light. There was no warm light in my room_. I wasn't in my room_. It all came rushing back: Jake stripping in my living room, calling Edward a vampire then transforming into a giant wolf, the Monsignor confirming the existence of vampires, and then finally Edward breaking into the confessional with crimson eyes. I jumped away from Edward, scrambling away until I was startled by the feel of my back against the wall.

It wasn't a dream. It had all happened. Frantically, I glanced at the room around me. By the dim light of a dying fire in a hearth on the other side of the room, I could tell I was in a bedroom. Outside the window where lacy curtains hung, I could see it was dark outside. The patter of a light rain hit the window in a gentle cadence. The room was furnished with dark, heavy furniture, and the wallpaper had large cabbage roses on it. Despite the scent of wood smoke, the room smelled musty and unused.

My heart was pounding wildly. It hadn't been a dream. Jacob had turned into a wolf monster in front of me. Edward had told me he was a vampire. The monsignor had advised me to go away because I was in grave danger, but it was too late now.

From my place in the corner where the bed met the wall, I drew myself up into the tightest ball I could. I could feel Edward's eyes on me, and I swallowed hard. I had to know what his intentions were. I'd been spirited away somewhere and I didn't know why. I looked at the man whom I'd felt so close to, realizing he wasn't a man at all. He was a vampire and I'd made love with him. I'd made love with Jake and he was a monster, too. Jake, my best friend—he was a werewolf? It was surreal, and nightmare-ish. My breath came in short, shallow gasps, and my mind raced chaotically. Had I wandered into Hell? Were my sins so irredeemable that this was how I was punished? "Wh-where am I?" I stuttered, grasping for the cross around my neck and wondering if it held any protection for me.

Edward's face had filled with pain as he'd watched me scramble away from him. His brows were drawn together, and his mouth was fixed in a tight line. He backed away from the bed and began speaking very slowly and clearly, as if I were a child. "You're in my house near Vancouver. I brought you here when you fainted."

"Am I captive?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He whirled and strode to the fireplace, looking down at the dying fire. He rested his arm on the mantel and laid his forehead on that. I could barely hear his reply; he sounded tired and discouraged. "No, you're not captive. I'll take you back whenever you want."

I watched as he stood silhouetted against the orange glow of the embers, unable to forget how that long, lean body had felt against mine. Part of me was appalled that I had been intimate with such a creature, yet a part of me remembered the pleasure, the connection and the overwhelming sense of rightness. I longed for it again. I wanted to curl myself in his arms and tell him about the nightmare I was in. But he was a part of that walking, living nightmare. I curled into a tighter ball, trying to fight the feelings that were threatening to tear me apart. "It wasn't a dream then, was it?" I whispered, feeling tears collect in my throat. The beautiful night we'd spent together now seemed twisted and tawdry.

He turned back to face me, and again I could see my own pain mirrored in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry. No, it wasn't." I closed my eyes, trying to fight back tears.

His voice still seemed to crawl right into the center of me, engulfing me like a fragrance that filled the room. "You are safe here. I will not hurt you. I will take you back whenever you wish." His voice was resigned, and I heard the notes of sadness in it. "However, I would ask that you stay here long enough for us to be able to ascertain whether it is safe for you back in Forks."

"Safe for me?" Everyone kept talking about my safety but not explaining the danger. When would _I_ be able to make the decisions that affected my safety?

"I want to be assured of your safety by the Quileutes."

I knew those people. "They would never hurt me," I replied assuredly.

"You can't know that, Bella." His voice admitted no argument. "They're werewolves and young ones at that. Believe me, they're volatile and unpredictable."

I realized he could be right. What did I know about them? This was the secret that Jake had been hiding. This was the reason he'd abandoned me. I'd almost had his child. I'd almost given birth to a monster; I'd had one of them growing inside me. I clutched at my stomach as a wave of nausea gripped me. "Oh my God," I gasped, bent over my stomach as it did flips.

"Bella, are you alright?" Edward asked, his voice full of concern. He took a step towards me.

"No!" I yelled, a hysterical note creeping into my voice. "Just…stay where you are," I choked out, holding my hand up.

I'd given Jake everything. He'd been my best friend, my first lover. I would have raised his children. His little wolfie children. He was a werewolf, and I'd been ready to be a part of his...pack?

The next lover I had taken was Edward, and he was no more human than Jake. What in the name of all that was holy was wrong with me? Was I some kind of magnet for evil?

"I have to pray," I blurted out. "I have to..." _I need to find the nearest convent is what I need to do_, I thought hysterically. I would go and enroll and live as a nun for the rest of my life. I'd go and pray for hours every day, giving up men−all males of any kind−entirely.

Was Edward my punishment for sleeping with Jacob? I stared at Edward, wide-eyed. He was frozen in mid-step, just as he was when I had stopped him. Backlit by the fire, his red eyes weren't visible, and he stood motionless, one hand held out to me, beseeching. He looked just like an earnest, seductively alluring young man. _No,_ my heart whispered, _not punishment_.

He took a step backwards toward the door and gestured with his hand. "There's some water at your bedside. There's a bathroom down the hall, first door on your left. I'll be downstairs in the parlor, if you wish to talk." He whirled and left the room.

I stayed there for a while with my arms around my knees, wrapped into a ball, until I was sure that he was indeed leaving me alone. Then I slipped to my knees beside the bed, wishing I had my rosary with me. It was far from the most coherent prayer I'd ever offered, but it probably ranked up there with the most fervent.

I stayed on my knees for a long while, beseeching God. _Please, please help me. Show me what I need to do, and give me the strength to do it._ I closed my eyes and tried to imagine I was back safe in my church. But the illusion wouldn't hold, and each time I concentrated, Edward's eyes−red, brown, gold and black−in all of their color variations−broke into my thoughts. Perhaps my mind was too chaotic to hear God's voice; for the only course of action I could see was the one that scared me the most. _Go talk with him_. After an hour or so of trying to debate with myself, I returned to my position on the bed, watching the fire get smaller and trying to actually think, not just react.

My head kept stumbling over the word 'vampire'. _He was the undead. He was a monster. The monsignor said he would kill me._ My heart kept arguing though, _You can't believe that. He saved your life. He saved Crystal's life. _

His whole family were vampires, Jacob had said. Looking back at all the strange little things about the Cullens, the things that everyone had gossiped about them behind their back started to fall into place until I was kicking myself at being so blind. The whole town had believed them. They were admittedly weird, but ultimately accepted. Why not? Who would suspect the town's best, most likeable doctor was a _vampire_?

The shock of recent events began to wear off, and my mind started to gnaw at the questions like waves to the coastline. But they kept breaking on the rocks of ignorance, and understanding was no closer. How could Edward be so full of love and tenderness yet be the creature he was called? Why had I been so willing to sin with him, and God forgive me, why was part of me longing to do it again?

If vampires and werewolves were real, then what other myths or legends would be true? The Quileutes were werewolves? They were natural enemies of vampires, Jake had said. The whole tribe or just some of them? I tried to think of Sue or Seth Clearwater as a werewolf, and I just couldn't do it. But then, I hadn't believed that of Jacob either. The Cullen kids went to school during the day-and they were vampires? Dr. Cullen was a vampire? Did he raid the bloodbank, like some kind of bad Dracula movie?

I had so many, many questions. How had I missed all of the supernatural things going on around me? What else had I missed? And if Edward was a vampire…

That was when I started crying. I'd thought of Edward as my angel−an angel of light, not an angel of death. He'd tried to tell me he wasn't, but I'd been so dazzled by him, I hadn't listened. I'd known he was something more than human; I'd felt it every time we were together. But a vampire? Something less than human? He was something so feared and reviled that they made horror movies about what he was. I kept trying to reconcile the images in those movies with what I knew about Edward, and it just wasn't possible. I'd seen the fanged, bloodsucking monsters, and it wouldn't mesh with Edward's tenderness, his caring, or the air of tragic wisdom that surrounded him. I cried, grieving over the shattering of the illusions I'd had. What future could there be with him? Last night had been so transcendent, so beautiful, and now what could possibly become of us? I hugged my knees, mourning the dreams of us together, but like an insistent child, my mind kept nagging me with questions. How could I have been so blind? Did he care for me or was that just an illusion, too?

I needed answers. My mind would just walk itself around in circles, asking the same questions again and again until I could comprehend my situation. My thoughts went to my father, but my cell phone was in my purse, which was probably back in the confessional. There was really only one person who could give me the answers to the burning questions I had, and he said he'd be downstairs.

That's what I told myself anyway, not yet willing to admit that being with Edward, regardless of what he was, was worth whatever price I would have to pay. That no matter how much I was frightened by what they said he was, the attraction that pulled me to him was greater.

Going down the staircase was probably one of the bravest things I'd ever done, braver even than entering the doors of the Women's Clinic. Then I thought I knew what I was getting into, even if I'd been proved mistaken. This was just a giant leap into the unknown, into dark and terrifying waters.

In the hallway, there was a candle sconce on the wall that provided a dim light, but the darkness pooled around the edges, all too reminiscent of a horror film. I could hardly hear the occasional creaking of the floorboards above the rapid beating of my heart and the singing of blood through my ears. I stopped halfway down the rather imposing staircase, suddenly remembering how Edward could hear my heart beating, and the thought occurred to me that it might be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Hadn't he said he was dangerous? He'd also said I was safe. Which of those statements were true? I almost climbed back up the stairs again to cower in the bedroom, but something kept me going. For all my fear, there was a part of me that remembered the intense feeling of connection I'd felt with him. Had that just been an illusion on my part too? The need to know drove me forward.

I tried for several moments to slow my breathing and pulse rate, trying for a calm Zen-like state, before admitting that it wasn't going to happen and pressing on anyway. At the bottom of the staircase, there was an orange glow and I could hear the erratic popping and crackling of a fire off to the right.

I fixed the location of the front door directly in front of me in my mind and glanced briefly at the dark dining room to my left. To the right, through an open archway, was a parlor dominated by a huge mantle beneath which a fire burned brightly. It illuminated the room furnished with two large wingback chairs facing the fire and other couches and tables scattered about. It reminded me of one of those preserved rooms that you see in a historical museum. Everything was in its place, the books all squared with the coffee table they sat on, the pillows perfectly placed and plumped, but there was nothing there that said someone lived here.

I snuck around the edges of the room until I could see Edward seated in one of the wing chairs, the flickering of the fire reflected in his ruby-tinted eyes. He sat slumped in the chair, staring at the fire, looking as dark and brooding as Mr. Rochester in a Bronte novel. His hair was messy, and a stray lock hung over his forehead, but what struck me was his absolute stillness. There were none of the miniscule clues of movement, blinking or breathing, that indicated a living being. The only seemingly living thing in the room was the fire that threw wavering light across his immobile face. He hadn't said anything to me or acknowledged me in any way, but I was sure he was aware of me; he was just letting me see my fill of him.

I stood there, pressed against a wall in a dark corner of the room, trying to order my thoughts, which were rolling chaotically through my mind. I jumped, nearly knocking over a table that held a lamp, when he spoke.

"Hello." His eyes were still clouded with pain, but he managed a rueful smile as I made a grab for the lamp before it fell over.

I successfully got the lamp upright and silently commanded it to stay. "This is your house in Vancouver? The one you talked about when we…" I didn't know how to finish that. When we were making love? When we were fucking? What was it we had done? I didn't know anymore.

"Yes." He nodded solemnly. "It's not the circumstances I would have chosen to show you, but yes."

I wrapped my arms around my waist, hugging myself and feeling small and vulnerable as I looked around the room. It was a nice enough house, if rather old-fashioned, but with just the fireplaces and candles, it seemed creepy. "Can we turn on some lights?"

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "The electricity had been turned off. It's been a while since I've been here." He shifted slightly in his chair. "I'll call tomorrow to get it turned on."

"Is there a phone I can use? I should probably let someone know where I am." What I wouldn't have given to have a conversation with someone, well, normal. It would help me feel less like I was some kind of tragic heroine trapped in a fantasy novel.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Sure, use this." He flipped it open and pressed a few buttons. Then he shook it and held it to his ear. "I'm sorry. It doesn't seem to be working. It must've been when I got it wet." He put it back in his pocket. "We can drive into town in the morning and find a phone for you."

I looked around the room. There was a grandfather clock in the far corner but it was too dark to make out the face. "What time is it?"

"Just after two."

The sense of surrealism had made me lose all sense of time. Sidling over to the other wing chair, I gingerly perched on the edge of the seat. I glanced over at him; he was watching me with his arms resting on the arms of the chair, and one leg was casually stretched out in front of him.

I hugged myself tighter and blurted out the thought that had been nagging at me. "I feel so stupid. I thought you were an angel."

He rose out of the chair and stood before the fire. "I should have told you myself. I am heartsick you had to find out this way." The thrum of restrained power that usually poured off him was missing. Intuitively I realized that somehow he was holding it back to be less threatening.

'Yes," I agreed, holding myself and rocking back and forth within the large wing chair. "Yes, you should have."

He turned to face me. Silhouetted against the fire, his face was in shadow. "I wanted to. I was going to," he said gently.

"It's a rather important piece of information, don't you think?" I said in a surprisingly challenging voice, startling even myself. My reaction took me by surprise. I was actually feeling quite a lot of anger. Anger at myself for being so naïve and slow to catch on, anger at Edward for not being forthcoming, and anger, deep anger, at Jake for the secrets he'd kept for so long. There'd been this whole hidden world going on around me all this time, and I was just now beginning to catch on. It made me feel stupid and ignorant, like the last kid in a neighborhood group to catch on to some secret that had become common knowledge.

He drew himself up straight. "There were reasons−there still are reasons−why this knowledge was not shared with you." There was just the slightest edge of warning in his voice that made a chilled shiver travel down my back. _He's a vampire. Don't forget that_.

"How much danger am I in?" I had to know.

He smiled crookedly at me. "From me? None. From the Quileutes? I think we need to find out." He paused. "There are…others though, that will be concerned that humans know of our existence." He shook his head dismissively. "But they are far away and slow to act. We should have time."

_Time for what_? I wondered. "Jacob thought I needed protection from you. You once told me yourself that you were dangerous to me." I swallowed the lump in my throat. I felt like I was trapped with the caged tiger again. I needed to know the answers to these questions, but would they provoke him?

"I am, Bella," he said softly. "I still am. But know this. I will protect you at all costs. You have become the hinge to my existence. If I lost you…" Suddenly, his face twisted. For the first time since we had met, I felt his composure falter. He turned rapidly back to the fire, so that I couldn't see his face. His shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath. "You don't know what you've come to mean to me. I need you." Inexplicably he whispered, "I need you, I'm sorry."

I had to close my eyes. The pain in his voice was so raw, it brought tears to my eyes. I fought the urge to throw myself in his arms, vowing how I needed him too. This was all happening so fast. Still, his words echoed in my head alarmingly. "Why are you sorry?"

He moved back into his chair before answering, his movements, as always, controlled and fluid. He leaned his head back aghainst the chair and his eyes searched my face. "Because I have changed your life irrevocably from the time we first met in the church, and no matter what happens," he said softly, "you are not the innocent you were before."

_That's for sure_, I thought. "So, why did you lie to me? What is it you're after?"

His eyes were dark shadows as he sighed and looked down at his lap. "I did not lie to you. Please be mindful of that." He raised his eyes to mine, and the need and the longing in those eyes made me glad I was sitting down. "What is it that any boy wants from a girl?"

"You just wanted to get laid?" I squeaked out. Immediately, I flushed as I realized where my thoughts had traveled. But even as I'd said the words, I knew that wasn't it, and I was sorry something so crass had left my mouth.

He smiled as I blushed at my own words. "Well, no, there's more to it than that. A lot more."

Our eyes caught each other again, and it was if an electric current was tying us together. Even with his red eyes, I could see the pain and longing in them. My heart jumped into my throat, like I was balanced on a high wire, and it was making me dizzy.

I broke our gaze, trying to regain what little composure I had. There were things I had to know. The monsignor's words came back to haunt me. I stared down at my hands in my lap. "Are you in league with the devil? Did you sell your soul?"

"No, nothing like that. I am no more a fan of the devil than you are." His voice was gentle.

I risked a glance at him. "No demon worshipping? Satanic rituals?"

He smiled. "No."

I nodded and sighed. That was a big relief to hear, and my heart told me he was being truthful. "You don't sleep during the day?"

"No. I don't sleep at all," he said lightly. "I'm not technically living in the way you would think."

I watched the fire snap and pop, trying to figure out what that might mean. I didn't let too much time elapse though. I could tell he was being honest and open and had dropped the air of mystery; I felt compelled to get as much information as I could before he decided that he'd said enough. I pursed my mouth, trying to remember the other things I'd heard about vampires. "Crosses? Holy water?"

He chuckled. "Bella, I went to church with you. Did I melt? Explode?"

That was right. "You did," I said wonderingly. "You went to church with me." He'd been in God's house, and nothing untoward had happened. "Garlic?" I asked, casting about for anything.

He shook his head and a shadow of a smile crossed his face. "I hear it's good in Italian food."

"Coffins?"

"No, don't have one," he said smiling, but then his eyebrows rose. "Well, actually, I guess I do. They supposedly buried my 'remains' when I died. I wasn't in there, of course. I went back some years later to check on it." He shifted in his chair. "It was odd, seeing my own gravestone," he said softly. "It was right next to my parents' in the family plot."

"Your parents died when you were young, didn't they?" I asked, watching his face change with the fire's shifting glow.

"Yes, it was the Spanish flu that took them, and it almost took me as well. It's when Carlisle changed me," he said, staring into the fire.

"How old are you, for real?"

He smiled disarmingly. "I was born in 1901." His smile didn't reach his eyes, however, and I could see his concern as to how I would take the news.

I did the math in my head. "You're over a hundred years old," I said wonderingly. _Talk about dating an older man._ "And you've always looked just like you do now?

"Yes," he said, sighing. He paused for a moment and then continued. "It's been more of a disadvantage as the years go by."

"A disadvantage to look so young and…" I struggled to find the word, "beautiful?"

He looked at me and the sadness in his eyes took my breath away. "Bella, I haven't felt young and beautiful for many decades. It's been years of fighting to stay numb and impartial, trying to remember what made me human in the first place." He moved so fast it was if he disappeared from the chair and reappeared before a long dark window, one of three that lined the wall. The dark window panes reflected his shadowed face and the room behind him. "The outside and the inside don't mesh anymore," he said wistfully, like he was talking about something completely separate, rather than himself. He turned to face me. "I feel like Dorian Gray. Somewhere in the attic there must be a picture of me growing older and seedier while I sit here untouched by time."

"But there is beauty inside you," I said, unable to be silent as he disparaged himself. "I've seen it".

He turned around and smiled at me widely. "The beauty in this room is with you. It shines out of your face like the sun."

I shrugged my shoulders, unable to accept his compliment. "Nice words."

"True words," he protested.

Our eyes caught each other's. His gaze absolutely seared me, burning away everything else but the fact that we together and there was something indefinable that we shared. There was that click of recognition again of one soul knowing and recognizing the other. _Give me a reason_, I pleaded silently. _Give me one reason to forsake everything I have ever known or loved and I will follow you to Hell itself_. But what reason could there be?

I looked down at my hands. "What's it like?" I asked softly.

"You mean, being a−" he asked.

I nodded and said the word aloud for the first time. "Vampire." It felt strange in my mouth, like an unusual flavor.

"It's been a while since I was human, but I remember thinking when I was first turned that it was so much more intense. Your senses are heightened, your perceptions enhanced." He came back to his chair and sat down. He cocked his head at the fire. "You know in that scene in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy first lands in Munchkin land?" He glanced at me to make sure I was following him. "The movie has been black and white up until then, but then she opens the door and suddenly the place is flooded with color?" He sat forward, eager to make his point. "It's something like that. Suddenly, everything is so beautiful and intense and somehow…_more._"

I nodded, urging him to keep speaking.

"The speed, the strength is exhilarating. Racing the wind, running faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive…"

He looked at me smiling and together we finished, "able to leap tall buildings in a single bound." We chuckled quietly.

"See? You are like a superhero," I suggested.

His face twisted, like I'd found an open wound. He shook his head. "No, not that."

I'd been so frightened and scared, and he was genuinely trying to put me at ease. Yet I realized that he was vulnerable and frightened as well, and I wasn't sure why.

We both stared at the fire, as a log collapsed, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.

"So, what have you been doing for the last hundred years or so?" I asked, wondering what you do when you have forever.

He looked over at me, smiling. "Is this the part where we tell each other our life stories?" he asked, teasing.

"Well, sure. You should go first. Yours is a lot longer than mine is," I pointed out.

So he did. He told me about how he was changed, his years with Carlisle and how the rest of the family was gathered. He spoke about the years in Britain and Europe during World War II, drifting from company to company, blending in with the chaotic times, and trying to help the war effort. He talked of coming home, trying to live with the rest of his family, but feeling like a fifth wheel and then beginning the traveling that would eventually span the globe.

My fear had mostly faded, and I was beginning to feel comfortable with him, reassured by his promises of my safety. It seemed easy and natural to ask him questions about his travels and his adventures.

"But you haven't asked me the most important question of all," he said softly, rising from his chair and slowly approaching my own.

"What's that?" I asked, my heart suddenly rising in my throat.

"That's why I asked you to come here with me," he said, falling to one knee by my chair so our faces were nearly level.

"Why?" I whispered, mesmerized by his dark eyes.

"Because," he said, taking my hand into his own cool one, "in all of those years, there has never been anyone that I wanted to share them with until now."

He kissed the back of my palm and looked up at me, hauntingly open and vulnerable. The fire glinted off his eyes, causing the ruby sheen of them to glimmer. It was strange; it was too strange.

I pulled my hand back slowly as his face fell and the impassive mask he usually wore slid back into place. It was all too much. "I think I will go back upstairs now," I said, timidly.

He stood up. "Of course," he said brusquely. "This must be a lot to take in so quickly. Perhaps rest is needed."

I sidled out of the chair. "I will talk to you in the morning then."

"It's nearly morning now," he said. I glanced out the window. There was the faintest glimmer of dawn out there.

"Well, later then," I replied, sliding back towards the stairs.

"Goodnight, Bella," he said gently.

I glanced back over my shoulder before turning the corner to the staircase. His tall, lean form was silhouetted by the fire, and his hair glinted redly. He nodded slowly in goodbye, and I ducked my head once in response before beginning the climb up the stairs.

The fire was nearly out in my room, but I stirred the ashes and got it going again with some of the kindling stashed by the hearth. I had it burning brightly when I climbed between the covers, grateful for the crisply starched sheets on the bed.

I watched it for a long time before sleep overtook me.

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Thank you to all who review! I apologize for being so fail at answering them, but know I am reading (and often re-reading!) every one.

Thanks!


	26. Chapter 26 A Bite To Eat

A/N Thanks to everyone who pitched in on the Support Stacie Auction and Ms. Kathy's Haitian fundraiser. I have donated a piece to that as well, make a donation and check it out!

My heartfelt thanks to my betas, I have been keeping them on their toes! Shout out of thanks to Erikasbuddy for the inspiration of 'Oh, Lord'.

* * *

"Good morning."

Bella edged her way into the kitchen, where I'd been checking the cupboards for something edible for her to eat. The caretaker sometimes kept a small supply of canned goods in the cupboards, but they all had expired years ago. It was technically still morning, but just barely.

"Good morning," she replied, shifting uneasily next to the counter, looking around the room. She tucked her hair behind an ear, and it melted all the walls of reserve I had tried to erect over the night. The gesture was unconscious, slightly awkward and just utterly disarming.

For the most part, I was feeling good about our conversation last night. She'd been willing and able to overcome her shock, and her natural curiosity had taken hold. After she had gone upstairs, I'd spent the night swinging from abject fear that she would reject me out of hand to unbounded and unfounded optimism. While her heartbeat kept me company, I'd paced the floor throughout the house, tortured by doubt, insecurity and fear. I hated it. I hated feeling so out of control and with so little to do when so much hung in the balance. I needed weeks to explain things and months to court her, but as I'd looked in the mirror, watching my eyes as they slowly faded to a ravenous black, I knew the truth was I had only hours. So although my heart had counseled to bring her along slowly and give her time to digest it, I knew the truth was that I couldn't give her that time. All I could do was pick my way through the minefield of her preconceptions and trust that the sense of _rightness_ in us being together was mutual.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, and ran a hand through my hair. "I was just checking to see if I had any food in the house. How did you sleep?" I inquired politely. What was it about her? She came into the kitchen and the whole room seemed to come alive. It went from just another stale sterile room to something warm and vital.

She made a face. "Not very well." She looked tired, but I'd been pretty sure by listening to her heart rate that she had drifted off for a while. The wet thudding beat of her heart had kept me anchored all last night while I waited for her to wake up and come downstairs. It had pounded rhythmically and softly, at times lulling me into a state of calm like a ticking clock will do for a lonely puppy.

I decided to keep the conversation light. "Well, I guess that's to be expected when you find out you're surrounded by myths and legends," I said off-handedly.

She glanced at me quickly to see if I was kidding. "It sure seems that way."

"You know," I said off handedly, "nothing around you has changed. It's just your perception."

She slowly raised her eyes to mine, and tilted her head to the side. She wouldn't allow me to minimize the trauma to her worldview. "Well, my perceptions have been seriously shaken."

I nodded, point taken. "Of course." I turned back to the cabinets, to check the last one, but it was empty. "So you must be hungry?" I asked, turning around.

She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her belly.. "Starving," she confirmed.

I stepped over to the back door. "Come on; let's take a ride into town."

I kept my favorite car in what used to be the carriage house. I slid the door open, and daylight flooded the bay. I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face as the Aston Martin took shape in the light. It was one of the last Vanquishes to be produced, and it was an Ultimate Edition, all black and chrome. It sat low and sleek on the concrete floor, coiled power like a panther's streaming off it. Even motionless in the garage, it looked like it was going two hundred miles an hour. I had a weakness for beautiful machinery, and this symbolized the epitome of a grand touring vehicle.

Bella took a step back from the garage entrance. "Wow."

"This is okay, isn't it?" I asked, teasing. "I mean, we could go back and get your truck."

She shot me a glance and then sighed, exaggerating her capitulation. "I guess it'll do," she said, mock serious.

I sped around the car and opened the passenger door. "Your chariot awaits." I bowed slightly as she brushed past me and lowered herself into the seat. I gently clicked the door shut and got into the driver's side, unable to stop myself from smiling as I looked at her while she buckled her seat belt.

"What?" she asked, confused by what I was sure was a silly grin on my face.

"You look good in this car," I explained as I turned the key. She did look good in this car, and it made me inordinately happy to see her sitting next to me.

"_Anybody_ would look good in this car," she griped.

"Well, you look especially good," I said as I pulled the sports car out of its garage and onto the long winding drive. The clouds hung low and grey in the sky, but it would clear up in a few hours as the afternoon sun burned them away. _We'd best be back out of town by then_, I worried. But the concern seemed rootless and far away as I swung the car through the curves. The trees flashed by us, and I was enjoying the feel of the car's tight steering under my hands when I glanced over to see Bella's white-knuckled grip on the console and door handle.

She felt my eyes on her and glanced over at me, her eyes wide. "I thought you were a slow driver?" she whispered.

She'd gotten that impression on the motorcycle, when I had dawdled just to string out the ride with her pressed against my back. I backed off on the gas pedal. "Sorry," I apologized. "It's easy to get carried away in a car like this."

I rolled the window down on my side just an inch or so. Her aroma in the confines of the car was concentrated, and it was creating unwanted reactions on my part. The vampire and the human sides of me warred as to which wanted her more.

Her hands relaxed a bit as the car slowed, and I cast around for something to say. "Have you ever been to Horseshoe Bay?"

She looked at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. "That's right, we're in Canada now, aren't we?" she asked apprehensively.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Is that a problem?"

"I don't have my passport. How will I get home?"

I struggled to hold back my laughter. Boundaries held no meaning for vampires. We went where we wished. "Please don't worry. It won't be a problem when the time comes."

"When the time comes?" she asked, exasperated. "I have to get back. Darcy, my cat−I just left her..."

"I'll call home. I'm sure Alice will go over and check on her." That reminded me of the mess her place had been left in after the fight with Jacob. Perhaps Emmett would make some repairs. The already concerned look on her face prevented me from sharing the news of her damaged apartment.

She settled back into her seat, slightly mollified. She looked down at her hands, but I heard her heart rate speed up. Curious, I glanced over at her. She met my eyes briefly before she spoke. "Last night you said you were no fan of the devil."

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you believe in God?"

"Well, in fact I do, but I think the question to be asked is, does He believe in me?

"What do you mean?"

I'd spent years thinking about just this question. "We vampires live out of time. We never age, we never change. Our hearts don't beat. For every rule of biology and physics, we are the exception. Why would I believe that we would follow the rules when it comes to the afterlife?"

"So you think there is nothing for you after this life?"

"I..._hope _there is nothing for me." God had made us predators. The vast majority were as cruel and merciless as housecats. I had taken my nature and tried to ameliorate it, tried to channel it into some kind of service. If I couldn't be as pure, as selfless as Carlisle, I had taken what was given me and tried to turn it into something I could live with. What was God going to do should I show up at the gates of Heaven? Reward me for the endless parade of murders? I didn't think so.

"You said you were born a man and then changed," she said. I nodded in confirmation. "How can you believe God has forsaken you? You are His child and nothing can change that. He loved you. He loves you still. He won't forget you. "

I looked at her wide, trusting brown eyes. "Bella," I whispered, "you have no idea of the things I've done."

I saw her swallow and her eyes dropped to her lap. _This was wrong. This was so wrong_. Why did I ever think she could come to accept me easily? It was just the streak of stubborn in me that refused to give up hope, which would fight until she pushed me away.

But then her head came up. I was stunned when I saw a tear slide down her cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"The shepherd rejoices more over the one sheep returned to the fold than over the ninety-nine who stay within it," she whispered, her eyes kept to the floor.

A spasm of anger crossed through me. Was she trying to force some reconciliation with God on me? "He was talking about sheep there. There is no parable about letting the wolf into the fold," I said harshly.

We sped through the gentle curves of Horseshoe Bay Drive silently. Bella looked out the window to her right where the bay flashed between the trees, wide and placid on the still, gray day. It was not much later when we started to enter the town proper.

Her voice was small when she spoke next. "I was wondering about something."

"What is it?" I asked cordially, eager to make up for my earlier contentiousness.

"Jacob said your family lives on animals. That they've been killing all the wild life," she said.

I held her eyes in mine, trying to let her feel my sincerity. "Yes, they do live on animals but they're quite aware of the local populations. They often travel for hours to hunt. Jacob may be somewhat biased." _Soon,_ I promised myself. _I would tell her all of it soon. Just give me a little bit longer to reassure her, then I would tell her everything_. She still seemed unaware of why my eyes were not the golden ones like my family.

"He said his tribe was a natural enemy of yours."

"Their shapeshifting abilities are something rare, even in our world. They use it, and rightfully so, to protect their tribe. But Carlisle made a treaty with them long ago, that we would not harm any of them or hunt on their lands. In exchange, we keep each other's secrets. Jacob was wrong to tell you. It should have been my secret to share when the time was right."

"Your world…" she whispered under her breath.

"It's a world much wider than the one you've been used to, Bella." I pointed to the sign that said 'Nonnie's Restaurant Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner'. "Look, there's a place that sells lunch." I was sure there was no hint of exotic dancers. "It is almost lunch time, correct?" I glanced over at her as I pulled into a parking space, and I could see the relief in her face what we were back to talking about more mundane things.

"Yes, it is. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." She looked at me, and I had to laugh as her eyes widened. "Not a horse, really. I mean…"

I started laughing. "I doubt very much horse will be on the menu."

She started laughing with me as I turned the key. She watched as I pulled a contact lens case from my pocket and put the contacts in place. "The red eyes make people stare," I explained abashedly.

"Of course." She shook her head. "I'd wondered why your eyes were so unusual."

Two teenage boys walked by on the sidewalk, eyeing the car appreciatively. "Let's go," I suggested as I pushed the car door open.

We walked the few paces to the restaurant and once inside, found a booth along a wall. It was an old, slightly shabby place, with plastic upholstery and a lunch counter, but the presence of local workmen and native townspeople reassured me. Their minds were clear and simple, full of things to do and local gossip; they were the salt of the earth kind of people with human hopes and concerns.

Bella ordered while I stuck with the obligatory cup of coffee that was my usual cover. The waitress had brought our drinks and set them in front of us, and I stirred my cup, the spoon tinkling against the cheap mug. "So, I believe it's your turn."

She looked up over the rim of her orange juice. "My turn?"

"Life story, remember?"

"Oh, that's right," she said. She took another sip of orange juice. "Well, it's considerably shorter than yours."

I looked at her expectantly.

She shrugged. "And it's really rather unremarkable."

She let me pull her hand to my lips. "Tell me," I whispered, before brushing it with my lips.

She was born in Washington State, she said, but moved south as a youngster. We'd gotten up to her high school years and move back up north when the waitress set the plate of pancakes in front of her.

She inhaled deeply as she picked up her silverware. "This smells so incredibly good."

"Not as good as you," I said, smiling.

"I haven't had a shower," she scoffed as she reached for the syrup. "Sure, I smell great."

"No, really," I protested. "You have no idea how incredibly good you smell to me." I balanced the spoon on the table. "As good as those pancakes smell to you," I said, gesturing at her plate as she took a bite, "you are a thousand times more to me."

"I smell like food to you, don't I?" she asked, chewing.

"You smell like heaven to me," I said, reaching across the table to let my knuckles trail down her face. She stopped chewing and swallowed hard.

A delicate blush crept up her neck, and venom flooded my mouth. "Is it hard for you?" she asked.

"Yes," I assented softly. "Your aroma calls to me in ways that I've never even imagined. I seem to be resistant to it when I've fed, but the longer I do without, the harder for me it is." I fiddled with my spoon again, finding it hard to look her in the eyes while I shared these thoughts. "There are humans we call singers, because their blood calls to us. You seem to be mine." I shrugged apologetically. "But it's more than just the way you smell to me, Bella. It's more than your quiet mind or your beauty."

She rolled her eyes at my compliment. I smiled at her self-deprecation; it only endeared her more.

"I feel alive when I am with you," I said. I raised my eyes to hers, but I felt like my throat was closing. It was harder than I thought it would be to tell her what she meant to me, what she could mean to me. "Everything becomes possible."

We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, Bella's fork frozen in mid-air. She broke our gaze and set the fork down on the plate.

"How could we be together?" she whispered, her eyes on the table.

I reached out and clasped her hand across the table. "There is a way," I said.

"How is everything?" our waitress inquired, startling Bella. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Bella?" I asked. She shook her head mutely without glancing up. "Just the check, please."

Bella slipped her hand out from under mine and sat back against her booth. "Can we go now? I should use a phone."

"Of course," I said, standing up and throwing some bills on the table. "There is a pay phone in the back. Let me get some change."

I got some quarters from the cashier and poured them into her cupped hands. "Thank you, really," she said. "I'll pay you back for breakfast and everything."

"You're my guest," I admonished her.

I waited outside while she made her calls. She exited from the restaurant, blinking at the change in light.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

She nodded. "I couldn't get a hold of my neighbor. I wanted her to check on Darcy."

"I'll ask Alice to do it," I said. "Why don't you wait for me in the car?"

No one answered the house phone when I called, but I left a message on the answering machine, asking if someone would check on her cat and a plea to Emmett to see if he would put her apartment back to right. Later as we headed back to the house in the car, I had the radio playing and Bella tapped her armrest in time with the music.

"You know," she said, "out of all this crazy stuff that's gone down, the thing I can't seem to believe is that I went to high school with vampires. How old is Alice, anyway?"

"She's just a year younger than I am," I said, smiling that she'd picked this detail to fixate on. If I was her, I'd have been more concerned about my relationship with the Quileute, but I thought her mind was trying to process the new world view she'd been presented with in small bits. "Jasper is a hundred and sixty-six." She shook her head in disbelief while I continued. "It's way to blend in. To become a part of the community."

"Well, I can see that, but high school? Really?" she asked, perplexed. "High school is like, the worst. Why would anyone go back voluntarily?"

I laughed at her distaste. "It's something I've managed to avoid."

"You're different from the rest of your family," she said speculatively. "You've been moving around while they've been staying put. Your eyes are different than theirs too. Why is that?"

A spike of dread ran through me. These were the questions that would make or break us. "There is more I have to tell you, Bella," I said quietly. "A lot more."

She took a deep breath through her nose and said, "Alright." I could see how she mentally braced herself, and I had to admire her. This woman had had the foundations to her beliefs and ideals rocked and she kept coming back to face them. She'd overcome fear and horror to try to understand. Bravery wasn't just jumping out of a foxhole to run at the enemy; it was persevering when everything around you that you'd taken for granted collapsed like a sand castle before a wave.

But the question was how much could she take before she withdrew in revulsion, taking with her everything that I had dreamed of and hoped for? She saw the hesitation on my face. "You need to tell me the truth, Edward. All of it. No matter what it is."

Sometimes courage was required just to speak the truth. I glanced over at her, and found her eyes on me. Perhaps it was just my delirious hope speaking to me, but I imagined I saw trust and compassion in them. I had to take the leap to trust her as well.

From out of fear to trust. From trust to love. I sent a fervent prayer into the ether and began to answer her questions.

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A/N I would love to have your review. So many have of you have reached out to touch and delight me and made me think, thank you!


	27. Chapter 27 1743

**A/N** Here you go, my lovelies. Sorry for the delay. Heartfelt thanks as always are due to hellacullen, a southern gem.

**Bella**

The wide, calm waters of Horseshoe Bay flashed by the car window, interspersed with stands of trees. "You're different from the rest of your family," I said. "You've been moving around while they've been staying put. Your eyes are different than theirs, too. Why is that?"

Edward's face got very serious, and he shifted his hands on the steering wheel. "There is more I have to tell you, Bella," he said. "A lot more."

"All right." I tried to keep my voice calm, but my heart had jumped into my throat. I put my hands in my lap where it would be hard to see if they trembled.

Unconsciously, he ran his hand through his hair and then looked over at me appraisingly. I could sense his sudden indecision. The time, though, for being mysterious and coy had passed. I raised my chin, ignoring the sudden clenching of my stomach. "You need to tell me the truth, Edward. All of it. No matter what it is."

I tried to keep my breathing steady and my heart rate down, but something told me I wasn't going to like what he told me.

Edward looked out his window for a moment as the trees flashed past. "As you've been told, my family lives on the blood of animals. They hunt and live off of wild game. They're the exceptions among our kind." He looked over and tried unsuccessfully to smile, but the pain and concern in his eyes overshadowed it. "They call themselves vegetarians, because of their diet."

"Vegetarians?" I asked, trying to understand.

"In this case, it means they are abstaining from the usual diet for vampires."

_The usual diet for vampires. He means humans._ My stomach jumped again, but I swallowed hard and tried to keep my expression neutral.

He opened his window a bit wider, and the breeze ruffled his hair. "Do you remember when we were stargazing, and you asked me what it was I did?"

"You said you were like a private investigator or something," I said, trying to remember how he had worded it.

"I told you I was in crime prevention." He looked at me and I nodded with recognition. "Those men that attacked you? Remember when I told you that you didn't have to worry about them again?"

I remembered something like that. My mind worked on that for a moment. _I didn't need to worry about them because… Oh, Sweet Jesus. I knew it. I knew it back then, but I had shut my eyes because I hadn't wanted to know._ "You killed them," I whispered looking down at my feet. I could feel the blood leave my face.

"Yes." His voice seemed to come from a long tunnel.

My eyes seemed glued to my feet. I couldn't look at him. "You drank their blood."

"Yes." He said this even softer.

My stomach lurched, violently this time−once, then again. I grabbed the dashboard with one hand. "Pull the car over," I said through clenched teeth, willing myself not to puke on his leather upholstery.

"Bella, I−"

"Do it," I gasped, my hand on the door handle.

Quickly, he pulled the car over to the road's shoulder, and I had the door open before it had come to a complete stop. I jumped out of the car and took a few steps towards the tree line, then bent over with my hands on my knees and my head down, inhaling and exhaling through my nose.

I was better outside the confines of the car. I concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply and the nausea started to fade. I heard the door on his side of the car open and shut and soon saw his boots come into my line of sight as I stayed bent over.

"So you're not a 'vegetarian' like them?" I asked, not raising my head, nearly panting.

"There's been times in the past when I was, and I want to be like that again," he said.

I took a few more slow breaths and stood up to meet his eyes. "What's stopping you??"

"It's not that easy," he said, frowning.

"Your family does it." It came out accusingly, but that's not how I meant it. He couldn't read my mind, though.

I wasn't prepared for his reaction. Instantly, he was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, and the scowl on his face as threatening as a thundercloud. "Do you think I _choose_ to live this way?" he hissed. "That I _like_ it?"

"I don't−I don't know…" His hands were squeezing my arms painfully.

"Do you have _any_ idea what my life has been like?" His eyes glittered; his eyebrows drew together fiercely. "I've had a front row seat to the darkest human depravity. Constantly moving, finding the worst of the predators−"

"Oww," I whimpered under the force of his grasp; his hands were nearly lifting me off my feet.

His eyebrows rose in surprise as his hands released me. I would have collapsed to the ground had he not caught me by the waist. His face twisted in horror.

"Bella−did I hurt you? Oh, my God. I'm so sorry." His eyes searched me like a mother dog will nose its puppy to check on its wellbeing.

He held me gently this time, his knees bent, so our faces were nearly level. There was that scent of his again-so clean, so sweet yet so masculine. My heart twisted with the remembrance of how his lips had felt on mine. I was filled with churning emotions, and I fought for control. "No, I'm okay," I mumbled. Well, actually, I was far from okay, but for the moment I was in one piece. The same gently curved lips that had kissed me with such tenderness had pulled the blood from a−I couldn't even finish the thought. Love and horror were not meant to co-exist side-by-side; it was way too confusing. I put a hand on his chest and gently pushed. His arms reluctantly released me.

He turned, faced into the woods and shook his head in frustration. "Despite my best intentions, I can't seem to stop myself from hurting you. You are bringing something out in me that I don't know how to deal with." He turned to face me, and his eyes were shadowed with vulnerability. "It's like you have something I never knew I wanted, and now I can't live without." He moved a step closer. "I know now, that with you, things can change for me. "

I looked up into his dark eyes, while my heart and my mind warred within me. How could he be so beautiful and live on such…? I shivered with repugnance. The thought of drinking warm, thick blood was totally grossing me out. I couldn't even stand the smell of blood.

But something else was bothering me, too–a sense of justice. Could I throw out years of being a cop's daughter, having the ideals of criminal justice pounded into me? The skeptic in me knew how many murderers and rapists never saw a day behind bars. There was something very appealing about the idea of him meting out justice, particularly in the case of those who had attacked me, but I had to dismiss it. Vigilantism was never right. Besides, I was a Christian now; I should be forgiving those who had acted against me, rather than cheering their murders. But despite my horror at how they had been dispatched, some small part of me celebrated that they were gone.

I really was the worst kind of Christian. "I think you should take me back to the house now," I said, my eyes on the ground.

"Of course," he said stiffly and stepped back to the hold the car's passenger door open. I got back in the car, as did he, and he pulled the car back out onto the highway.

We'd gone a few miles when he started talking softly, keeping his eyes to the road. "I stayed with my family for years when I was first made. It was Carlisle, Esme and I at first. Rosalie and Emmett joined us a few years later. Following Carlisle's example, we all lived as he did. Carlisle's compassion is just, well, staggering. But the time came when I couldn't stay with them any longer. They were all paired up, and every day I could hear their..." He ran a hand through his hair. "It got too hard to stay with them. And as I traveled, I heard the thoughts of the evil."

I couldn't say anything. I held onto the door handle and stared at my lap.

"I couldn't just stand by and watch the innocent preyed on like sacrificial lambs. Where was God when a grandmother was knifed by a thug for twenty dollars? Where was He when a baby was burned by lit cigarettes as an amusing experiment? Or an eight year old raped by gangs?" His face was tight, and his eyes burned as he shook his head. I was reminded of how he had looked when he had rescued me-the same intensity and barely controlled savagery. "There is way too much injustice in this world for God to be claiming His eye is on the sparrow. If I'd been made into a predator, then I would take it and make it into something worthwhile."

He glanced at me briefly, but I was still mute with shock. He clenched the steering wheel tighter. "But I was wrong. Violence is violence, no matter how you dress it up as justice. And even the perpetrator is changed by it. I knew it was time to stop when it got too easy."

The feeling of watching myself from a great distance had returned. Still I replied, and my voice rang in my ears like the echo of faraway church bells. "Too easy?"

"Too easy to kill," he answered. "Too easy to take vengeance for another senseless murder. To dispatch another soul without so much as a fare-thee-well." He took the turn off the highway. "And it was changing me," he added softly. "Changing me in ways I didn't like. In ways that started to seem permanent." He grimaced like he had tasted something sour. "And I realized it was ultimately ineffectual, like trying to empty the ocean with a Dixie cup. I can't save humanity from themselves."

"Only God can do that," I murmured, and then winced at my own sanctimony. It rang false against the pain he was expressing. Clichéd platitudes seemed an insufficient answer to the dilemma of the soul he was wrestling, but I was way beyond my depth here.

He scowled. "Well, He better get started soon, because I am resigning. I am ready to let go. I surrender before the wave of evil. It was too much for me to hold back."

I don't know why, but I needed the number. "How many?" I asked, my eyes on his face.

He glanced at me, and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. "One thousand seven hundred forty-two, no, forty-three."

"Oh, my God," I cried softly, raising my hand to my mouth. _So many_. He turned the car into the driveway.

Edward started talking faster. "I know, Bella, I know. I was happy to be the avenging angel for a while, but I can't take it any longer. I don't want to live like this−running from place to place, covering my tracks, only connecting with the worst. I want to settle down, find some peace, find some love."

My lips echoed his words silently. "Find some love."

"There's never been anybody like you. Nothing I have ever felt compares to it." He turned the key off and the engine fell silent. We were parked in the drive, his house in front of us. Behind the house, a wide lawn led down to a dock that stretched into the placid bay, the silver water reflecting the grey sky. "I know you feel it, too." He reached for my hand but I pulled it away.

In an instant, he was out of his door, and I heard him opening mine. I couldn't meet his eyes._ One Thousand Seven Hundred and Forty-Three. That was twenty times the size of my graduating class in Forks. It was twice what it would have been in Phoenix_. I swung my legs out of the car and stood up.

"You feel it too, don't you, Bella?" The pain and the uncertainty in his voice compelled me to raise my eyes to his face. His eyes searched mine. "Bella?" Genuine fear crossed his face and it was like catching someone naked when you walked unexpectedly into a room. That flash of vulnerability, the almost painful baring of something usually kept private.

Standing so close to him, the physical pull of his body called to me again; it was like some weapon that he could use that made me want to forget everything he'd just told me. I dropped my eyes away from his, knowing I could be stronger if I didn't have to see the pain and the longing in them. I took a step away from him shaking my head. It was time to get everything out on the table.

"So, let me get this straight. You're a vampire." I started laughing because that sounded so surrealistic coming out of my mouth. The laughter had a slight tinge of hysteria to it that even I recognized. I was getting perilously close to another edge of some kind. I could feel a slight trace of dizziness again, and I willed it away from me. "You've been killing people." He took a step toward me, and I held my hand up. "I know, it was the worst kind of people. I get that. My father's a cop. I appreciate what you've been doing." I shook my head in disbelief. "Heck, you saved me. I wasn't too picky about how you were going about it."

I took a deep breath. "But you want to stop. And you want us to…" I raised my eyebrows, indicating he could jump in, but he stood there, watching me. "You want me to be your girlfriend," I said.

He took a step towards me. "More," he whispered back.

I swallowed hard. "More?"

Before I could move, he had me in his arms. One hand was behind my back, pulling me close to him, the other stroked my cheek softly. "I told you−everything. I want everything from you." I could barely breathe with his nearness; it gripped me like an undertow and pulled me deeper under his fascination. His hand moved to caress my hair. "Let me show you the Serengeti, Bella. I can show you corners of the worlds where man has never stepped, and the animals greet you like friends. We can watch the cities glitter in the night as we sit perched on impossible heights." His eyes practically flared with his need. "Join me, Bella."

The need to surrender to whatever he wanted, to say yes, to throw my arms around his neck warred with the practical side of mind. But it was as he pulled me closer that I became aware of the cool chain of my cross necklace around my neck, anchoring me to the world I knew. It meant order and rules, not the dark abyss of the unknown that stretched before me. I stared at the collar of his shirt. "You want me to…"

"Become one of us," he whispered. "You'll never get old and never be ill. We'll live like my family does. You can attend the best colleges−"He stopped abruptly, when I started shaking my head violently.

"I don't believe it. You'd turn me into a vampire, too?" I asked, shocked and incredulous.

"If I could turn back into a young man for you, Bella, I would," he said, his eyes intense and burning. "Even if it was for only a year, a month, a day with you. But I can't. I can only ask if you'll join me."

My eyes started to inexplicably fill with tears. "It's too fast," I gasped. "It's too much." I took a step backwards out of his arms. His eyes filled with a kind of horror. I couldn't stay and watch it.

I backed up another step. Tears started rolling down my face, and I was panting with the pent-up emotions that were churning through me. "I-I-I have to think. I have to think," I cried. I whirled around and started running.

Blindly, I ran past the house, across the wide expanse of lawn. The tears were hot on my face, and they blurred my vision. My steps made dull thudding sounds on the boards of the dock at the edge of the water as I ran down its length to teeter at the edge of it, the waves below me gently lapping at the dock posts. I saw my shadow on the water, and I closed my eyes against it, while the tears ran down my cheeks.

_Jesus, help me,_ I prayed. _What do I do? What do I do?_ I felt like I was being torn into pieces. One thousand seven hundred and forty-three. I could see the number floating in my mind like a billboard sign. But then I stopped, frozen. _One._ The count for me. One child, one innocent. I thought back to what I'd heard Father Brian tell Edward in the diner. "Actions taken to protect the public good are allowed. It's premeditated killing or the killing of innocents that is the mortal sin."

My hands were the bloody ones, weren't they? "Oh, God," I cried out loud. My words echoed across the placid water. "I can't stand this. I can't take it anymore." Startled, two ducks who had been floating on the surface took wing and started rising, heading for the other shore. "Stop it!" I screamed at the sky, my fists clenched. "How much more do I have to pay? How much?"

What kind of choice was this? I meet and fall in love with the most beautiful, ethereal man, and he is not a man at all. And as incredible as it was, with so much blood on his hands, mine were worse. I collapsed on the dock, sobbing as if my heart was breaking. And it was.

***

It was sometime later that the sun came out from behind the clouds. I could feel its warmth beating down on my back and arms as I hugged my knees to me. I moved back to the large maple tree that stood like a sentinel on the lawn, its branches providing a canopy and its rough trunk serving as my backrest.

I must have been out there for hours, trying to sort out what I was feeling, what I was thinking, what Edward must be thinking and feeling. I wished for Father Brian's practical advice, and I spent a lot of time praying for some kind of guidance. Time, I decided. Time to think, to pray, to take this one step at a time.

It was dusk and the sky had taken on a golden glow when I saw Edward stride past me, and walk out to the edge of the water. He sat down and arranged himself with legs crossed and hands on his knees. The rays of the sun hit him, and he began to shimmer in the light. The effect was breathtaking. Sitting in the golden light, cross legged like a Buddha, he looked more than angelic; the effect was god-like.

He sat there absolutely motionless, facing the water, his back to me. Curiosity finally pulled me out away from my leafy sanctuary, and I approached him from an oblique angle so I could see his face. His eyes were closed, and his lips were moving. He was reciting a list of names, and he spoke each one clearly and distinctly, with pauses between them like he was reading the names at a military memorial.

"_Aaron Ebert_

_Abraham Fletcher_

_Abdu'l Baha_

_Abel Schunberger_

_Ace Boisvert _

_Adam Torrent_

_Aidan MacDonald_

_Alan Rickman_

_Alexander Skarsgard_

_Alistair Cross_

_Albert LaRouche_

_Alfred Fehrman _

_Andre Levinson_

_Andrew Bellefleur_

_Andrew Stanton_

_Anthony Vicarelli_

_Antonio Piscarro"_

_Antwoine Reed_

I stood there and listened, mesmerized as he continued on. _His victims,_ I realized. _It's some kind of memorial._ _Why would he remember all their names? _

_Because their deaths mean something to him, _my heart whispered. _He mourns them. Even though he supplied their deaths, he lets himself feel their loss._

It had been something I had never allowed myself to do. I'd never been able to cry for the baby that had been taken from me, the baby that would have been Jake's child. I remembered the daydreams I'd had when I'd first suspected I was pregnant. In them, there had always been a round, brown baby with flashing dark eyes and a wide toothless smile. But I had walked into the Women's Clinic, because I'd thought at eighteen years old and in high school, I had no business having a child. So although I'd cried with guilt and with shame, and even for the loss of a future motherhood, I had never cried for the loss of the child I would never know. I'd felt too responsible and so I felt like I was not allowed to grieve.

But as I listened to Edward and the spoken names as they flowed in a river of lost humanity, I sunk to the ground and with my face buried in my arms, I let the tears start to flow for Baby Swan-the child I could not raise, but a child I could begin to mourn.

He was into the G's when I withdrew and went back to the house. In the gentle gloaming, the night was creeping up, and but I could see the electricity must have been turned on in the house. Several downstairs windows were filled with a golden light, and I headed for the back door, which connected to the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen, some food was piled on the counters. Edward must have hit a store while I was out by the dock. I wandered through the rooms, drained by all the passions of the last few days, feeling gratefully numb after all the rollercoaster of emotions. I was struck by the seeming normalcy of the house. It seemed like any other vacation home, where the owners had been away for a while. I found the library, or what would be the home office, and I browsed the bookshelves, while I practiced what I was going to say. I sounded so calm and reasonable in my own mind. _I'm glad you want to turn a new leaf, and I'll support that any way I can. But this has all happened so fast. Let us take things slow, and we'll see where the Lord leads us._

The sky had darkened to a midnight blue, and I could see the fireflies blinking on the lawn behind the house, dancing in random ecstasies, when I saw Edward's figure striding back towards the house. I met him in the kitchen, as the screen door thumped closed behind him.

He came in the room almost sheepishly, his hair mussed every which way. Even now, after I knew what he was, his beauty hit me like a sledgehammer. The classic planes of his face, the strong jaw and cheekbones, the lean lines of his body dressed in a simple shirt and low slung jeans were so masculine in an ethereal way. He watched me as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter. I'd been naïve to call him an angel, but I couldn't deny the ineffable attraction he held for me.

"I found the food," I said stiffly. "Thank you."

"Of course," he said, brushing my thanks off. "I've put some toiletries in the bathroom, and there's a nightgown on your bed."

"Thank you," I said again.

He scratched at a spot on the counter with a fingernail. "We should head back tomorrow. I don't like that I wasn't able to get a hold of my family, but with my cell phone out, I don't have their numbers. We'll try again when we're on the road." He looked at me, with such an expression of sadness on his face. His eyes didn't look as strange this evening. They just seemed dark, almost black, rather than the otherworldly, red-tinted ones of last night.

"All right." I took a sip of the milk I'd poured for myself. "You…shimmer. In the sun."

"Ah yes, the glitter factor," he said ruefully. "It's what keeps us out of the sun."

"It's actually quite beautiful," I said, looking at my milk. "I heard the names." I admitted.

"I heard you cry," he replied softly.

"It seems like it's becoming a regular occurrence with me. I am not usually so…emotional."

He said nothing, just watched me.

"You know I was thinking that when we get back, maybe we could go to my church and−"

He interrupted me gently. "We can't, Bella."

"Well, I know you're not into the whole religion thing, but if you would come and talk with Father Bryan−"

"That's not it, Bella," he said almost tenderly like he was talking to a child. "I can't be with you; it's too dangerous."

"Well, there is that−the whole secrecy thing. But I know it all now, right? I won't tell anyone. And I'll talk to Jake and make him promise not to hurt you."

He smiled crookedly at that. "It's not that either." He took a step towards me, so gracefully and smooth, like the liquid motion of a jungle cat. "It's you. Your scent, your beating heart, the warmth that envelopes you. When I told you this morning at breakfast how good you smelled, I wasn't falsely exaggerating. It's becoming too risky for me to be around you. It's a struggle even now."

I stopped in shock. His eyes really were black now. A deep, impenetrable, insatiable black. "But before, you said when you were having trouble, you could take precautions."

"The precautions meant somebody died. Animals won't do it, I'm afraid. The way you smell right now," he said, inhaling and closing his eyes, "it's like ecstasy and joy wrapped together."

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "Somebody died? You mean you had to off somebody to stand my smell?"

"It creates painful reactions in me, and it's getting worse. It will soon be impossible to be around you." He started to pace the length of the kitchen with long graceful strides. His turns at the edges of the pacing became faster and faster, almost too fast to follow. "You wouldn't ask an addict to stay in a room full of loaded needles. How can I be with you, when how you would taste becomes all I can think about?

"I can't let you kill people just to be around me. It's a sin, Edward, a mortal sin."

He stopped his pacing. "I know that, Bella," he said, exasperation crossing his face.

"But animals-can't you just hunt like your family?"

He shook his head. "I've tried that. For your scent, they won't do."

We stared at each other, separated by only six feet of kitchen floor, but it felt like six light years. "So you're saying tomorrow is our last day together? You won't be able to see me again?"

He stopped pacing and glared at me. "Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you." He took another step toward me, and I took a step back until I felt the kitchen counter. "You want to know why I don't worship God. This is why," he said disdainfully. "This is his idea of a joke, that's why. To show me a tantalizing vision of what could be and then to snatch it away from me." He turned and put his hands on the table, slumping over them. "It's dirty and it's unfair," he said bitterly.

I turned and strode to the archway that led to the dining room. He wasn't the only one getting ticked off at the way things were working out. I whirled and shouted. "Damn you!" I cried, throwing the heavy glass at him. He easily batted it out of the way, and it rolled across the floor. "You waited until I'd fallen in love with you to tell me the truth?"

His surprise was palpable. "I wanted to tell you. You don't know how many times I tried to tell you."

"But you couldn't, because?" I asked with my hands on my hips. I could feel my bottom lip was trembling, with anger or fear or sadness. I couldn't tell which or maybe all three.

"It would put your life in danger to know the truth. I didn't want to tell you until I was sure..." He trailed off uncertainly.

"Until you were sure of what? That I'd sleep with you knowing you were a−?" I still couldn't say it easily.

He sat down in one of the kitchen table chairs and put his head in his hands. He wouldn't even look me in the eye to say it. "Until I was sure that you would join me."

My heart dropped into my shoes. "That's really what you want?"

"More than anything," he whispered. "More than life, more than death."

Still the skeptic in me woke up. I must be one in a long line of partners for this creature. "I suppose there have been others, right? Other girls you seduced and then made them ...vampire."

He looked up and stared into my eyes. "Never!" he said sternly. "You were the only one"

"Sure," I scoffed. "A hundred years old and I'm the only one--"

"You were!" he hissed at me. "You are!" He crossed the room in a flash and glowered in front of me. I saw his hands flex once and knew he wanted to grab me again, but held himself back. "There has never been anybody that I asked or even wanted the way I want you." He glared into my eyes. "Nobody. Only you."

A strange light came into his eyes, and a spasm of anger crossed his face. "And you?" he asked. "Was our night together nothing for you? Just another Catholic girl thumbing her nose at the rules?"

I gasped in outrage. "How dare you! It meant everything to me. Do you think I give myself like that to anyone?"

"It didn't take much to lead you into bed," he said suspiciously.

"Why, you son of a bitch!" I fumed at his audacity. "Do you honestly believe that if it had been anyone but you that I'd have even invited them in? That after the most incredible night of my life−" Suddenly, the anger I'd been feeling left me in a rush. "A night I will never have again," I said, my voice unexpectedly trembling.

"Arrrggghh!" he yelled, striding into the dining room. He picked up the heavy wooden table like it was Styrofoam and dashed it against the wall. It hit with a tremendous thunk, and the chairs around it went crashing every which way. He turned and faced me. "It doesn't have to be that way!"

I was stunned by the show of strength. "I can't," I cried, gasping. "I just can't." I whirled and ran upstairs. I stopped for a moment at the door, surprised by the sound of the front door opening and closing. From outside, there came a cry of anguish so heartrending, so harrowing, I couldn't listen to it. I slammed the door shut, collapsed onto the bed and pulled the pillow over my head. More tears, more useless tears that made my nose run and my head ache. I couldn't see any way out of the quandary I had gotten into.

_Dear God. It's me, Bella. The soul mate You sent me? He's a vampire. and he wants me to become one too. Is it okay with You if I decide never to show up in Heaven? I don't think this is the eternal life You were talking about?_ I started laughing through my tears.

A couple hours later, I sat restlessly in 'my' bedroom, torn with doubt. Having cried myself out, I'd found a white cotton nightgown on the edge of the bed. I'd taken a shower and sat by the fire I'd built combing my hair. But something refused to let me stay content with my decision. Something inside me was prodding me, and it wouldn't let me stay where I was.

On bare feet, I padded out to the bathroom. The door to the master bedroom was open, and I could see an orange glow filling the room. Inexplicably and undeniably drawn, I found myself taking a step into the room and sidling along the wall, so that I could see around the half-opened door. Just like my bedroom, this had a hearth in it and a low fire burned it, the coals glowing red.

Edward sat in a chair, holding open an album. Such inestimable sadness was on his face, the same empty hole I was feeling in my chest. He watched as I slid along the wall, and when I said nothing, his face changed to curious.

When mercury is splattered, the drops will gather together again once in close proximity. I didn't know what the force is called that pulls them together, but I felt it as I looked at Edward. For all the doubts and fears I had, they all seemed to evaporate as we looked into each other's eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, but words had abandoned me.

Edward made one move in his chair, a quick, uncertain gesture. When I remained still, he appeared in front of me, and I threw my arms around him. Kissing me furiously, he pushed me back against the wall. "Nothing," I said, gasping between the kisses I was laying on his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, anywhere I could reach. "This changes nothing."

He paused his ravishing of my face and lips just long enough to speak. "I don't care," he said. "Give me tonight. Forever can take care of itself." He grabbed my face between his hands, and together we searched for the release only found in the other. He pulled my nightgown off over my head, tossing it behind him, and it went billowing across the room like a schooner under sail until it collapsed in a heap in the rug.

Then there was only the crackling of the fire, laying an erratic soundtrack to the murmurs and gasps as we made love that felt like it had to last us an eternity. As his silken hands trailed fire across my skin, I tried to fix every last sensation in my head. We kissed and whispered as I tried to drink in every image of him, and it was only at the last as we came together that I allowed myself to close my eyes, knowing what I had tonight was going to have to last me the rest of my life.

Tangled in the sheets on Edward's bed, resting my head on his cool chest, I was nearly asleep with satiation when Edward jumped out of bed and pulled his pants on. I sat up groggily.

"My sister is here," he said, quickly buttoning his shirt. I barely had time to wrap the blankets around me when Alice Cullen appeared in the room, followed quickly by Jasper, her boyfriend that I recognized from high school.

They hadn't changed at all, and as I looked at them with knowing eyes, I wondered how everyone in Forks had so easily swallowed the fiction they had been presented with. Blushing as I pulled the sheet around me, I was very aware of Jasper's eyes on me.

"Hi, Bella," Alice greeted me.

Jasper nodded in acknowledgement. "Bella." He and Edward exchanged glances, and Jasper's mouth curved into a small smile as he looked down.

"Hello," I answered cautiously, feeling my cheeks burn and sure I was blushing furiously.

"What is it?" Edward asked Alice. "The wolves?"

Alice glanced at Edward but addressed me. "We need you to come back to Forks with us, right away," she explained apologetically.

"Why? What's going on?" I asked, glancing from face to face, suddenly aware I was in a room with three vampires dressed in nothing but a bed sheet.

"The Quileutes are worried about you. They're saying if we don't bring you to the treaty line by midnight, alive and unharmed, they're going to start a war."

"What do they want with me?" I asked, frightened.

Alice shook her head kindly. "They just want to make sure you're okay, that we haven't harmed you." She looked at Edward, and some unspoken conversation passed between them.

"We need to do this, Bella," Edward said gently. "I ask it for the safety of my family. You will not be harmed by them, I swear it."

"Of course," I said, nodding. "Let me go get dressed."

Holding the sheet around me tightly, I grabbed the extra fabric that had trailed on the floor and nearly stumbled out of the room.

"We don't have much time," Alice called after me.

_Of course not. For eternal creatures, time seemed to be in short supply with them._

* * *

A/N A special shout out of thanks to amymorgan who had the winning bid for me at the Support Stacie auction! I'm working on it!

Your review would be great. Please?


	28. Chapter 28 The Nature Of Being

**A/N **Thanks as ever to hellacullen and special thanks to Strider for stepping in at the last minute. Poo235, get better soon!

Welcome to all the new readers from His Golden Eyes, thanks for the rec!

**Edward**

_This is wrong. This is so wrong. _Bella was slipping away from me, and I was clueless about how to stop it. _She belongs with me. I should be with her. Protecting her, loving her. __She feels it too. I know she does. I saw it in her eyes when she came to my room._

But she wasn't letting her heart lead her. This was about her faith; I knew it was. If I could have pried open her mind with my fingers−and I sincerely wished that I could−I was sure I would find it full of images of cathedrals, rosaries and crucifixions. A hot pang of jealousy made my hands clench involuntarily around the steering wheel. I wished that I could call Christ from his throne and wrestle Him for her, because at least then I could fight for her. Instead I was watching her slide away like a receding tide, and the sense of helplessness I felt was nearly suffocating.

We were in the Vanquish again, speeding south towards Forks. Jasper and Alice were tailing us in Jasper's Camaro. We could have ridden with them, but selfishly, I wanted this time to be alone with Bella. Her face was pensive and her skin tones were cooled by the reflected light off the dashboard. The road was dark except for the very occasional streetlight. In this stretch of British Columbia, the highway was quiet and straight, and I let the Vanquish race through the dark like a thrown knife.

I felt like I was literally being torn in two. There was a jagged pain that extended from my chest downward at the thought we only had hours left. _We belong together. She has to be mine_. I knew it more surely than anything I had known in my one hundred and nine years. _Glamour her_, a part of my brain whispered. Oh, I wanted to. The temptation to make her bend to my will was almost overpowering. It was becoming all mixed up in the bloodlust, which had started to burn in earnest, until just the incessant need for her seemed a black hole in my soul, sucking everything into its gravity, except the one thing I could not have.

I glanced over at her. She had her face turned to her window watching the dark borders of the forest fly past us. _You could kill again. Isn't she worth it?_ Another temptation. I had done it once before to be with her. But how could I hold her in my arms knowing this was my primary reason for taking a man's life? I'd made Jerry's father a promise; I'd made myself a promise. And if I broke that promise, it would only drive me further and further away from being the person I wanted to be−the person I had to be−if I was to be with her. I would be back out there among the psychos and sociopaths, more worthless than before.

Miserable, I couldn't help myself. "You must be glad to be going home," I said coldly. "To get away from all the monsters." _There I said it. If she wouldn't say it, then I would. I was monstrous−beyond monstrous even._

"No," she said softly, not looking at me. "No, I'm not."

"Oh? And why would that be?" I asked disdainfully.

But she knew me better than I had realized. She looked at me with eyes shiny with tears. "You know why," she said, her voice tremulous.

I waited for her to go on. She was the one who'd said no. She needed to face what that was going to mean.

"Because even if you're one of the undead," she whispered, "when I'm with you, I am more alive than I've ever been."

I groaned softly with the jagged pain running through me. For her to admit these things to me brought back in sharp relief my feelings of despair and frustration. I had to turn my face and look out my side window, but I could see her reflection in the glass, and I couldn't stop myself from watching her.

"You make me realize I've been hiding," she said.

"Hiding?" It took work to keep my tone calm and even.

She nodded. "From the life I used to have. From everyone that knew me. From pain."

I turned to her. "I did that?"

Her eyes seemed huge; in this dim light her pupils were large and black, just as I imagined mine were. "Your litany," she said. "We all have a reason to mourn."

I didn't understand how she related to the list that I felt like I had carved into my heart. That was my private penance and I felt a spasm of anger that she had been a witness to that.

"You _have_ been hiding, you know," I said matter-of-factly. I hated myself for saying the words even as they were coming out of my mouth. Was I really going to rip this comfort from her? "What are you doing in churches all the time? You are a young woman. You should be out living your life, not on your knees praying about it."

"It's safe there," she whispered.

"Life shouldn't be safe. It should be exhilarating, intense and full of passion. Not safe." I shook my head disdainfully, wondering if any of this was furthering my cause with her at all. "What would be the point of living?"

She raised her chin, a gesture I was coming to recognize as a warning that I was pushing her too far. "Your litany, is that exhilarating?"

"Touche," I admitted.

"We all hide," she said. "Sometimes we hide from the pain we know is coming by blindly striking out."

I glanced over at her to see her large, liquid umber eyes on me. She had my number, I had to admit. How could someone know me so well in so little time?

I turned back to the road, thinking furiously. _Think, Edward, think_! How could I change her mind? What would be her motives for saying no? Was it just fear of the word vampire? Was it the diet of a vampire? She knew that animal blood could sustain us. Yes, she was scared of our nature, and she had every right to be. But I didn't think that was it. She'd surprised me more than once with her strength of will. There were reserves of courage and resolve in her, and she'd used them to overcome her initial fear. It had been enough to let her mind start to work and excite her curiosity in learning about me.

Of course, my nature bothered her. It wasn't an easy burden I carried. "If I were just a man, a regular man, would that have made a difference?"

"Of course," she said, sniffing.

"Even if I had killed so many?"

"Even then," she said intensely. "There is forgiveness for everyone."

I reached across to run a finger down her cheek. It was like touching the heart of a star. "There is forgiveness for you, too."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" she asked, her voice muffled as she rested her forehead on her knees.

"We are," I said, trying to make her understand. "We are a pair, Bella. Believe that. I do."

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she whispered underneath the hair that had fallen over her face.

"Believe this, then. There will never be another like you for me."

"Nor you for me," she said without looking up.

I reached over and took Bella's warm hand in my own, unable to keep from making physical contact with her. We were both silenced by the prospect that we might not have much more time together. We traveled miles, holding hands, trying to find comfort and strength in the other's touch.

"Talk to me, Bella," I finally pleaded. "Tell me about something you love." I glanced at her, becoming aware that her eyes were brimming with tears.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. She let her hair fall down between us like a curtain.

"Please," I entreated. I brushed her hair back behind her shoulder so I could see her face. "Pretend we're driving home from Charlie's."

She sniffed violently. I opened the glove box where I kept some paper towels for the car's dipstick and handed her one.

She blew her nose loudly into the paper towel. She then balled it into her fist and looked at me with her chin trembling. "I am just trying to follow Christ's words. Trying to be a good Christian."

"I know, Bella, I know." I could feel my face twist with grief. I hated that I was causing this pain in her. No matter which way I turned or twisted, I seemed to cause her pain. On the other hand, she was breaking me on the wheel of her denial, and although I was trying to keep our last hours together from dissolving into a deep well of misery, I didn't seem to be succeeding for either of us.

"People are supposed to get old and die. Then they go to heaven to be with God. It's the natural order of things."

"Yes, it is," I agreed, sighing. "You don't need to remind me of how unnatural I am."

"So why do I feel like I am making the biggest mistake of my life?" she wailed, breaking into heartrending sobbing.

I pulled the car over to the shoulder. Holding her hand just wasn't going to do it. I was out my door, around to hers and pulling her from the seat almost instantaneously. I gathered her in my arms where she sobbed against my chest.

Jasper pulled to the edge of the road behind us and killed his lights. Bella and I stood, clutching each other, in the dark by the side of the road somewhere in western Canada.

"Sh-h-h," I said, holding her close and stroking her hair. I didn't know what else to say. As much as I wanted her−needed her−this was a decision that she had to make. It would be the only gift I could give her. It was beyond doubt, that hardest thing I had ever granted to anyone.

"Why?" she sobbed into my chest. "I don't understand why God would do this."

I looked at the night sky, the stars wheeling above our heads. "I know God doesn't care about me," I said through clenched teeth, "but it's killing me that He does this to you."

"Of course He cares about you," she sniffed.

"I don't believe that," I said softly.

She leaned back to stare into my eyes. "Well, I do."

"Almost," I said, "you make me want to believe. But how can I when He has brought us together only to tear us apart?"

"It's you, it's you," she sobbed. "None of this would make any difference if it wasn't you."

"I know," I whispered while her warm tears soaked my shirt. "I can't ask you to abandon your God." The image of her in church praying came back to haunt me. There had been something so pure, so serene in her face then. I couldn't ask her to abandon God for me. I couldn't ask her to renounce everything she'd ever known and loved, could I?The sudden weight of what I had asked her to do fell on me then, and I felt crushed by my own selfishness. She was right to go on living her life. It was plain; I didn't deserve her.

She gradually began to calm. "Do vampires cry?" she asked, her voice muffled into my shirt.

"We can't. There are no tears left."

"That's the way my eyes feel," she said. She raised her face, and I saw how puffy her eyes were. Her nose was red and the skin on her face was blotchy. So much beautiful humanity. I reached in the car window and grabbed a paper towel, blotting at her tears.

"You are crying for both of us," I said. I brought my hand to her face and kissed her closed eyelids tenderly, tasting the delicious saltiness of her tears and fighting the desire to crush her to me. And as I kissed her, and then cradled her head against my chest, I listened to her heart, every beat reminding me that time was passing, and we had so little of it left.

We had crossed into the States by a back road near Surrey that circumvented the customs booth, and we were nearing Seattle when Bella shifted restlessly in her seat. "So you think it's just to make sure I'm okay that the Quileutes want to see me?"

"That's what Alice and Jasper heard Sam say to Carlisle."

"Sam? Sam Uley?"

"He's the Alpha, the head of the pack."

She shook her head, sighing. "I knew it. Of course, now it makes sense."

"What does?"

"Sam is the head of the wolf pack. I bet Paul is a part if it too. They were always calling Jacob, taking him out until late at night. He'd come home smelling like cut grass and the forest and roll into bed just as dawn was breaking."

_Another reason to hate the Quileute._ His stupidity in letting Bella slip through his fingers only reinforced my already despicably low opinion of him. "We'll show them you're okay and let them skulk back home," I said, trying to be reassuring. "Although I hope that Carlisle presses them for some kind of disciplinary action. They broke the treaty after all. We'd harmed no one on their turf when Jacob went all ballistic."

"Disciplinary action? Against who? Jacob?"

"He's the one that broke the treaty," I pointed out. "He's risked your life with knowledge he had no business sharing. What was he thinking, phasing like that in front of you?"

"I think," she said, giving him more credit than he deserved, "he was just trying to protect me."

"Well, it was wrong," I said, unwilling to hear how she was defending him. He had no defense, in my book. "There are consequences, serious consequences."

"At least _he_ gave me the truth," she whispered.

A sudden spasm of anger crossed me. "Truth, Bella? You want the truth?" _The truth is Bella, I don't want to go on without you._ "The truth is he recklessly endangered you, something I was trying to avoid."

"And now you will be leaving me, so as not to endanger me," she said.

There was a world of sadness in her voice and I felt it settle on my shoulders like Atlas. "Yes."

Her face was grave as she looked at me. "It's that bad?"

I inhaled a long breath through my nose, suddenly conscious of the aroma, recognizing finally that perhaps a part of my irritation tonight had been because I had to constantly fight against doing what it demanded of me. The scent was becoming overwhelming again, as my throat, my whole body started to ache for a taste of that blood. Her heart thudded quietly, in time, reminding me−as though I needed reminding−of the red ecstasy running through her veins. Thoughts began to flicker through my mind of pulling the car over to the side of the road, luring her into the woods, or even just taking her in the front seat and nuzzling into her neck where the pulse point quivered. I pushed the thoughts away from me, recognizing that it was getting harder to do so. "Yes," I answered her quietly, "it's that bad."

It was nearing midnight as we got into Forks. We drove down the curved driveway, and the house came into view. I heard Bella's heart rate speed up and her breathing quicken. "Don't be afraid, Bella. No one will harm you."

She shrugged, exaggerating an off-hand attitude. "Oh sure, this is just your average meet and greet with a coven of vampires."

I was heartened by her sarcasm. It meant her mind was in gear and working. "Please, they prefer to be called a family. It's what we are."

Carlisle and Esme came down the steps as we got out of the car. I put my arm around Bella protectively. "Carlisle, Esme. This is Bella. Bella, you know my father, Carlisle and this is Esme."

"How nice to meet you, Bella," Esme said, ever the gracious hostess even under circumstances like these. "We're so grateful you agreed to come."

"Good to see you, Bella," Carlisle said.

Bella swallowed and nodded. "Hello."

Carlisle ignored Bella's slight hesitation but his eyes flicked to mine. _How is she doing with all of this?_

Bella didn't see as I shrugged my shoulders to say, _Not so good. _

Jasper's Camaro pulled into park behind my car as Emmett and Rosalie came out of the house.

"Hey, Bella, how you doing?" Emmett said, grinning broadly, coming down the stairs. "So what do you think of all this? Pretty cool, huh?"

"Emmett," Rose reprimanded, as she descended the steps behind him. "Give the girl a break, huh?"

"Come on, Rose," he said. "Bella can handle it. She always struck me as tough."

"Don't listen to him, Bella," Rosalie said. "We understand it can be overwhelming."

"That's a bit of an understatement," Bella said ruefully, which caused Emmett and the others to chuckle.

"Well, we have to thank you for coming," Carlisle said. "We are trying to keep relations with the Quileutes normalized, and well, when they felt you were threatened, it's understandable they want to verify your safety."

"Are you sure that's all they want?" I asked Carlisle so quickly that the words would have been unintelligible to human ears.

_They understand that one of their members broke the treaty. He has some special ties to Bella_. Out loud Carlisle added, "If it's alright, we'll head for the treaty line in a few minutes, then Bella can show herself and we should be done." _Is she willing to be changed?_ Carlisle asked me.

I had to turn my face away, while I shook my head ever so slightly.

_Ah, son, I am so sorry._

"Bella, won't you come inside?" Esme asked. "I'm sure after that drive you could use a drink and a little freshening."

"Thank you," Bella said. She glanced up at me.

"I'll be right in," I assured her, as Esme took her arm.

"So," Esme said as she led her up the stairs to the house, "I hear you were in school with Alice and Jasper."

"They were in the same class as me," Bella answered as Esme held the door for her. I gave her an encouraging smile, knowing that Esme had a gift of making people feel welcome and at ease.

"I was so sure you had already turned her," Rosalie said to me when Bella was beyond the reach of our voices. "Then we'd really be fucked."

"I can hardly stand smelling her; you really think I'd have the control to turn her?" I asked bitterly. If I'd felt it was a viable option, I would have considered it.

"Looks like you were doing more than smelling her when we arrived," Jasper said as he and Alice joined us.

"Is that so?" Emmett asked, grinning and looking at me with eyebrows raised.

"So what is your plan?" Carlisle asked. "If she won't be turned."

_Good for her_, Rosalie thought, her chin jutted slightly, knowing I would hear.

"I don't know," I said, shooting Rosalie a look. "She's going to need some kind of protection. Unfortunately, she told her confessor about what she knew."

"Confessor?" Jasper asked.

"Her Catholic priest," I explained.

Carlisle's breath hissed as he sucked it between his teeth. "That's not good."

"Yes, and he has some tie to the Volturi," I added.

"She'll have to run," Jasper said.

"She'd have to run pretty far to escape the Volturi," Alice said.

"The wolves made this mess," Rosalie said. "Why don't _they_ protect her?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but snapped it shut as Carlisle's thoughts reached me. _It makes sense. They're obviously concerned about her. They're the one group I've seen that might hold off some of the Volturi guard if they came looking._

"Never," I hissed.

"Seems like you're running out of choices," Jasper said.

"Just give me some time," I argued. "Let's get this midnight meeting over with and I'll figure something out."

I turned and climbed the steps while the others drifted along behind me.

_Wolves._ _This should be fun. _That was Emmett.

_Really Edward. You need to be more careful. _Gee, thanks Rosalie.

_Seventeen forty-four. One thousand seven hundred forty-four._

That stopped me. I stood back and held the door, letting the others enter before me. Alice was last and her eyes had that faraway look they got when she in mid-vision. I checked to see what it was she was seeing. There was the interference from the wolves again, but on the other side of that, an echo was ringing with that number.

That was not a good sign, since my last victim had been one thousand seven hundred and forty-three. Alice and I paused, looking at each other briefly before entering the house. I didn't ask anything and she didn't either. Senselessly, some part of me hoped that if I didn't formulate the thought of what that could mean, I could deny it from coming into existence.

We mulled around for a few minutes. Jasper emerged from the hall closet and handed out raincoats, saying rain was on its way.

That sounded like prophecy. "Alice?" I asked him, donning the calf-length black duster he gave me.

"Weather channel," he smirked before giving Bella a borrowed yellow slicker.

Emmett and Rosalie took Bella and me out to the treaty line in the jeep. The rest chose to run there; it was not a far distance.

We bounced along a bumpy track for a while before pulling up in a meadow. I opened Bella's door and she slid out slowly. "It's so dark," Bella said, almost whispering. "I can hardly see my hand in front of my face."

"Put the lights back on," Rosalie said to Emmett, and the headlights returned to flare against the night. Their lights seemed to create a wall of mist in front of us; the humidity was thick and a drizzle had begun.

Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper came walking out of the tree line that bordered the east side of the field. With their hoods pulled up, they looked like street corner thugs, and I could feel Bella tremble under the arm I had wrapped around her shoulders.

Carlisle pulled his hood back and approached us. "How are you doing, Bella? Holding up?"

She tightened her lips and nodded.

Esme patted her arm. "You're doing great, honey."

Beyond the pitter-patter of a light rain hitting the trees, there was a rustle in the underbrush from the west side. Ten sets of eyes from the undergrowth reflected the lights of the car.

"The wolves are here," Esme whispered.

* * *

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	29. Chapter 29 The Whirlwind

**A/N **These next few chapters have a lot of action in them, so let me apologize beforehand for any cliffies. They were going to happen no matter where I stopped. I will try for regular updates, as much as I can deliver.

Special thanks to Strider Elfstone, for stepping in on a moment's notice. Hellacullen, you always have my back. Katmom, you are awesome and frankly, omnipotent.

To my reviewers, supporters, and Twitter fans, I wouldn't have gotten this far without your encouragement and motivation. You guys truly rock my word.

**Bella**

I breathed a silent sigh of relief when Emmett switched the car headlights back on, illuminating the field where we stood. It was dark, intensely dark, and the drizzle created a strange sound of movement in the forest surrounding the meadow as if the trees themselves were restless and stirring.

The headlights created twin cones of light that reached into the darkness only to be stymied by a thick ground mist that reflected the light back at us. Edward had his arm around my shoulders, and I was grateful for his touch. It calmed me, even as it puzzled me. I'd have thought with him being a vampire that I'd have found it disturbing, but something fundamental in me still recognized him as my protector. I leaned into his shoulder, letting his presence affect me as it always did; it awed me, and I could feel the rumble of power that exuded from under his skin.

I was ignoring the realization that we would have to part soon. I looked up at Edward, his face intent as he gazed around, listening to the forest and to the others' thoughts, I imagined. He had the collar of his black coat turned up, so it laid low and close to his neck, resembling a priest's cassock. Like a warrior priest stepping out of the pages of some Celtic legend, his face shone with intensity and ferocity. He needed only a sword to make it complete. I was glad for the rain; it disguised the tears that had escaped my eyes, as I struggled with the thought that he would have to leave me soon.

Esme, standing next to me, whispered, "The wolves are here."

From across the meadow, in the brush along the tree line, I could see the reflective circles of animal eyes. They were so high off the ground, and there was so many of them. _A pack of them. A pack of the monsters that Jacob had shown himself to be._ I swallowed hard and began to shiver. Edward murmured into my hair, "It's all right. It'll be over soon."

From across the field and out of the brush, two human figures emerged, followed by a straggling group of huge, horse shaped shadows. Gradually, they approached us at an oblique angle, walking slowly across the dark field. Their angle of approach kept the headlights out of their eyes and the Cullens lined up on one side of the headlight beams as the wolves approached from the other. As they got nearer, I could see it was Sam and Jacob, striding towards us, dressed only in jean cut-offs with grim expressions on their faces. The moisture had collected on their bodies, and their hair dripped rain like tears down their faces and chests. The wolves loomed large and monstrous behind them, their ears held low and close against their heads, almost crouching as they padded forward, their giant heads swinging back and forth, sampling the scents. The dampness caught in drops in their fur, and they reflected the light like crystals.

Carlisle looked back at Edward, and Edward moved us forward a step so we stood a pace ahead of the others with Carlisle. I realized all the Cullens and I were dressed in coats and hoods or caps and the juxtaposition of us against the near nakedness of Sam and Jacob surrounded by the huge, menacing animals struck me. They had appeared from the underbrush as if shaped into being by the darkness, an extension of these deep, black forests. Which of us really belonged here and who were the monsters?

I had known these Quileute boys that were now men for years; I'd sat at their card tables, eaten and laughed with them, and I had never seen this. I'd never seen the mystical, supernatural sides of what I'd thought were just regular boys. I'd never even suspected it.

Memories of Jacob and me filled my mind−our nights together, how he used to carve me miniature animals that sat on my windowsill back at Charlie's, the times we spent surfing with the others. Now he stood across from me separated by twin beams of light, and he could have been light-years away for all that I felt like I knew him.

Carlisle nodded his head in greeting. "Sam. Jacob."

"Bella, are you okay?" Jacob called.

I started to nod and answer, but Edward replied for me. "She's just fine."

Jake took a step forward, his face tense and his fists flexing. "I was asking her."

Carlisle glanced at us, silencing Edward with a look. "I'm okay, Jake," I called.

Sam put a hand on Jake's arm, and took a step toward us. Behind him, a handful of the wolven shadows paced restlessly. Several others had sat back on their haunches, watching us like domestic dogs, except for the intelligence and ferocity which shone out of their eyes. One smaller one had dropped to the ground, and its tongue was lolling out the side of its mouth, in what seemed almost a smile.

"I'm glad to see you're okay, Bella," Sam said. "Jake−we've all been worried."

"You can see she's still alive and human," Edward retorted. "Come on, let's get out of here." Edward made to turn but Carlisle's words halted him.

"Hold, Edward. There are things that need to be cleared up."

"I agree," Sam said. He glanced at Jacob, who was scowling at the ground. "A member of our tribe broke the agreement forged between you and our ancestors. This was wrong."

"It's put Bella in danger," Carlisle said.

"A regrettable consequence," Sam said. "However, we can take care of our own. If Bella will agree to be placed under our protection, she should be safe."

"Wait," I spoke up. "Safe from whom?"

Carlisle answered softly. "There are old and powerful societies among us that feel the knowledge of our existence by humans creates danger to all of us."

By my side, Edward stared at Jacob. He must have heard some thought he didn't like for he began a barely audible low rumbling in his chest.

"Well, I wouldn't tell anyone," I promised Carlisle.

Carlisle sighed and frowned, but Edward spoke up. "I'm afraid that horse has already left the barn."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The Monsignor. You told him what you knew," Edward answered.

I shook my head. "But he's a priest, he's bound…"

But Edward's face showed no relenting. "Our kind is ruled by an ancient, powerful family out of Italy. The Vatican sleeps within striking distance for them."

"You think the Monsignor would…?" I glanced at Edward, who nodded at my understanding. I raised my hand to my mouth. "My God," I whispered, the enormity of the situation beginning to sink in. "What have I done?"

Jake took another step closer, ignoring Sam's hand on his arm. "Don't be afraid, Bella. We'll protect you."

Edward whirled back to Jacob. "You have no idea of the enemy you'd be fighting."

Carlisle nodded. "He's right in this, Sam. If they came here looking for Bella, your whole tribe could be endangered. You'd be fighting dozens of the oldest, most dangerous and most talented vampires. Even with your increased numbers, it would be no match."

Sam looked around at the others. They drew closer to him. Under his breath, Edward whispered, "Fools."

"It's a risk we're willing to take," Sam said. Jacob raised his chin, looking challengingly at Edward.

"I couldn't let you do that." I protested weakly. I felt the world start to spin a bit. _Dozens of vampires after me? Just because I know something about them? _

"Of course, we will," Jacob said. "We'll protect you."

Edward's arm dropped from around my shoulder as he took several steps forward into the beams of the headlights towards Jacob. "She wouldn't need protecting if you'd kept your mouth closed in the first place," Edward flared. "Perhaps it's protecting from you she needs."

Jacob stepped forward as well, so he was just a pace from Edward. He scowled, and his whole body was tense. "You don't scare me," Jacob said softly to Edward, his voice filled with disdain and arrogance. "We've dealt with your kind before."

Edward replied, his voice low and venomous with implied danger. "And I've dealt with _you _before and I will again."

I remembered how Edward said he had fought Jacob when I had run to the church. They couldn't do that again; I couldn't stand to see people I cared about hurting each other. "No!" I cried, and it was like dropping a checkered flag; things exploded into action.

Several things happened at once. Jacob's body erupted, and scraps of clothing went flying from him. From the midst of the explosion, his body seemed to contract and then expand until there was the giant wolf I had seen before, crouched and snarling where Jacob had been. Jasper and Emmett sprang from where they had been standing, and they stood defensively at Edward's side, Rosalie and Alice right behind them. The wolves that had been in the background suddenly formed a phalanx right behind Sam, all of them tensed and ready to spring, a cacophony of guttural growls and snarls coming from them.

"Wait!" Carlisle cried, at the same time that Sam shouted "No!" and held his fist up.

The air bristled with tension. On one side were the wolves, their heads down, and lips curling. Sam kept a hand on the shoulder of the wolf that had been Jacob. On the other, the Cullens, poised and ready for a fight.

Carlisle took a step between the two groups to meet Sam in the middle and held out a hand, palm toward the ground. At a pointed glance from Carlisle, Edward took a step back and the rest of the Cullens stood up, rising from the defensive stances they had taken. Sam glanced around at the group of monsters behind him and while they continued to glare at us, they settled back on their haunches. The sound of rain dripping from the trees created an eerie, staccato backdrop. Far off in the distance, a roll of thunder boiled through the clouds.

"Carlisle, look at us," Sam said. "Tell me how many of us you see."

"Ten, including you," Carlisle answered.

"How many were there in Ephraim's day?" Sam asked.

"Three," Carlisle replied. "Your numbers have increased greatly." He paused, looking down at the ground, and then he looked intently at Sam. "It's us, isn't it?"

Sam nodded. "When mice are plentiful, foxes become so, too. It's been the constant exposure to you and your family that has forced our young people into this. It's a protective response."

Esme joined Carlisle, drifting soundlessly to his side. "It's our presence that's creating their magic?"

"No," Carlisle said, answering Esme but keeping his eyes on Sam. "But our presence here is unnatural to this tribe. It's developed ways to protect its own and when threatened, like an immunity, builds up the resources to defend itself."

"Is our being here a hardship, Sam?" Esme asked.

Sam raised his head stiffly. "We will honor the treaty, if you wish to continue it. I see that you've kept it," he said, nodding at me, "and I wouldn't have it said the Quileutes broke faith."

Down the line, Emmett whistled softly under his breath, like one would call a dog to one's side. Across the beams of light, several of the wolves bared their teeth in response, while their giant tails wagged behind them, promising a fight.

"But these are young men," Sam said. "They have been given great power and no chance to use it. If you create an army, you had best be prepared to use it."

Carlisle nodded. "I understand." He glanced appraisingly at Edward, who returned his look. "Let us withdraw and think on these matters."

The wolf that was Jacob took several steps into the beam of light toward me.

"No, she'll come with us," Edward said, taking a step in front of me.

The wolf rose up on its rear paws and shrunk back into a naked Jacob.

"Well, that's cool," Rosalie muttered under her breath. Jasper had thrown his arm around Alice, who held her head in her hands as if she was in pain.

"Bella," Jacob said, holding his hand out. "Come with us." He stood in the drizzle, his arm outstretched, palm up. Edward turned to face me, his black collar making his pale skin glow almost unearthly.

Jacob glistened slickly, the dampness rolling down his skin. "Bella, come on." It was the Jake I knew, a half smile on his face that I recognized. I flashed back to a day when we had been out on First Beach, and Jake had asked me with that same smile to come into the water to learn to surf with him. We had spent the day in the water until finally at sunset, we had come to the bonfire on the beach, exhausted and exhilarated with the thrilling rides we had gotten. We had shared our first kiss that night.

I looked from Jacob to Edward, who was watching me. Above the high collar of his black coat, his face was sparse and intense, as if restrained emotion had burnt away all extraneous flesh and left just the essence of him. He looked at me with his dark eyes that burned like black fire. I had only hours left with him, and I could have no more pried myself from his side than I could have taken off my arm. His face made a miniscule twitch when he saw the slightest shaking of my head as I made my decision.

"Bella!" Jacob said more sternly. "You don't belong with these freaks. Come on."

Edward stepped forward and slapped Jacob's outstretched arm down. "She's not going anywhere with you."

With that, Jacob exploded back into wolf form, his paws reaching toward Edward as he phased. It ignited a chain reaction down the line of vampires and wolves, and although Sam and Carlisle turned to defuse the situation, it was too late. Several wolves sprang from their formation toward Emmett and Jasper. Jasper pushed the ailing Alice behind him and whirled to meet the onslaught of teeth. Rosalie leaped forward to Emmett's side with her hands outstretched, her nails like the claws of a lioness. Emmett roared triumphantly as the wolves rocketed forward.

With a vicious snarl, Jacob sprang toward Edward who caught him by the ruff and wrestled his head back and forth, as Jacob reached for him with jaws snapping. Sam and Carlisle ran toward the writhing bundle that was Edward and Jacob as they rolled to the ground. Esme flew to my side protectively.

Things seemed to start flowing in slow motion, as I screamed at Jacob and Edward to stop. The rear guard of the wolves who had been springing forward to assist in the attack suddenly whirled around and faced the trees, growling and barking. Sam stopped where he was and turned angrily towards Carlisle. "It's a trap!"

Carlisle's face registered surprise and concern crossed his face. "No!" he yelled, just as Edward sprang away from Jacob and echoed "No!" as well at the tree line where the wolves were pointing.

Like a wave rolling across the field, animals and vampires alike started to grow still. From the back of the field to where the wolves stood, and rolling swiftly toward us, some kind of invisible cloud began enveloping the combatants. Swiftly, in turn they each began to still, their eyes turned blankly inward. It swallowed up Edward and Jacob, leaving them standing impassive and immobile where they stood. Esme had just enough time to send me a glance filled with foreboding before her eyes became fuzzy and unfocused and she became frozen as well.

Soon, it was just the sound of the rain and the pounding of my heart. In the fuzzy glow of the headlights, the wolves and Cullens were frozen like statues. I turned to Esme, whose face was calm and impassive, as if she was listening to some far off music; I tugged at her rain jacket. "What's happening?" I cried, but I could have been tugging at a wall for all the response I got.

I ran over to Edward, who had the same faraway look in his eyes. "Edward!" I yelled, grabbing at his jacket lapels. "Edward, wake up! Please, wake up!"

From across the meadow, I heard the undergrowth rustling. My stomach jumped into my throat. I clutched at Edward, who stood immobile, peering around him trying to put him between me and the noises which continued growing louder. It sounded like a wounded animal crashing through the bushes.

At the edge of the clearing, to where the headlights just managed to illuminate, a handful of large cloaked figures emerged from the trees, moving silently. Their black and dark grey cloaks just barely touched the ground, and I couldn't tell what kind of creature was inside them; the cloaks glided gracefully, seeming to float above the grass. Behind them several more emerged, two of them carrying a struggling figure between them. It was this figure making so much sound in his struggles, the rest of them moved soundlessly as if pushed by the wind.

Still hiding behind Edward, I continued to whisper, pleading with him. "Edward, wake up, please wake up. Now would be a really good time for you to wake up."

They circled around the group of wolves from the east, approaching where I stood among the Cullens. As they got closer, I recognized the Monsignor as being the struggling figure held between two of them. I couldn't tell if they were helping the aged priest or holding him captive. One figure in a black cloak moved to the front from among their ranks as they came to a stop, just a few yards from me. I cowered behind Edward, hoping they hadn't heard me, when the one in the black cloak said in cultured accent, "What is her name?"

I closed my eyes, as a high child-like voice answered, "Isabella Swan, Master."

"Isabella," the black-cloaked one called to me. His voice was gentle and smooth, and it made me think of brown velvet. "Please come out and talk with us."

Slowly I sidled out a half-step, still trying to keep Edward between us. I couldn't say anything; my heart was pounding fiercely in my chest. I realized I was panting, quick and shallowly, like a captured squirrel.

There were eight of the cloaked figures, and the Monsignor made nine. He looked wet and bedraggled, but most of all he looked terrified, and I wondered if my face held the same fear his did.

"Greetings, Isabella," the leader called to me, with the same lilt and inflection in his voice as if we were old friends who had run into each other at the mall. He pulled his cloak back from his face, revealing pale, pale skin, dark eyes that glittered with crimson and black hair combed back from his forehead. Thin cruel lips were turned up into what I guessed he hoped was a welcoming smile.

Inexplicably, the world started shaking. I gasped as I realized that it wasn't the world, it was me; I was trembling violently. I turned around and pressed my face into Edward's immobile chest, grabbing his lapels and burying my nose in his clothes. I took several deep breaths, inhaling his scent. He stood unmoving like a raincoat model in a catalog, the rain dripping off his hair. His eyes were fixed in the distance, and the moisture trickled down his sharp, pale cheekbones. I didn't know what they had done to him, what they had done to all of them, but it looked like it was up to me. I took one last deep breath and turned around.

"What have you done to them?" I demanded, my voice surprisingly steady.

Aro's unblinking gaze assessed me; it was like looking into the eyes of a reptile. I returned it, unwavering.

"They'll be fine," he said off-handedly. "But what a curious creature you are."

"Release them," I said, sounding much bolder than I was feeling.

He nodded and held his hand up, as if counseling patience. "In a moment."

From between his two supporters, the Monsignor wheezed. "More monsters. I should have guessed. I've shown you the girl. Now let me go."

Aro glanced over his shoulder. "A minute longer, Father. We may have a use for you yet." He turned back to me. "You keep unusual company for a human."

I didn't know what to make of that. I surreptitiously reached behind me, touching Edward for strength. "What do you want?" I choked out.

"Ah," he said cocking his head and smiling. "But we haven't introduced ourselves. I am an old friend of Carlisle's. My name is Aro." He took a step forward and extended his hand. "How nice to meet you."

He kept a certain distance from where Edward stood stock-still, and as I reluctantly left Edward's shadow, I took the step forward to grasp his hand. I meant to quickly release it, but as I whispered, "Hello," he grabbed my hand firmly and pulled me forward a step.

His grip was cold and viselike, and he stared into my eyes as if he expected to see something there. I struggled against his hand for a moment before he let me go, amazement crossing his face. "Nothing," he said to the others, over his shoulder. "Alec isn't affecting her. Jane, why don't you give her a try?"

One of the smaller figures pulled her cloak back, and I was surprised to see the visage of a young girl. Her eyes, though, burned hotly like ancient coals, smoldering in a bed of ashes. She concentrated on me for a few awkward moments before shaking her head. "Truly unique, Master."

I stepped back next to Edward, desperately wishing he would wake up. "What do you want?" I choked out.

"We came to visit an old friend, and it looks like we arrived just in time," Aro said, waving a hand at the immobile figures on the field. "Evidently, we are the cavalry." He looked around, pleased with himself as the rest of the figures tittered politely.

"Alec," Aro said to a smaller figure behind him, waving a hand in my direction. "Release these friends. Perhaps we should keep the wolves as they are, though."

"Yes, Master," the boy said. There was a pause as Edward, Esme and Carlisle came back to awareness. The rest of the family, further down the line of headlights, stayed immobile.

Edward instantly snagged me and pulled me closer to him. "Are you all right?" he murmured.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around his waist. His hand rose to my hair, and I pressed my head against his chest. I held him as tightly as I could, and he cradled me snugly but cautiously. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head and I nearly broke down in relief he was okay.

"Carlisle!" Aro called. "How good to see you, old friend!" He gestured at the field of frozen figures. "It looks like we arrived just in time."

"Aro," Carlisle acknowledged. "How nice of you to visit." However, something in Carlisle's voice suggested that he didn't think it was nice−no, not nice at all.

* * *

You knew they were coming, didn't you?

This story, so unexpectedly, has blown me away. Incredible premise, awesome execution. www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/5560222/1/


	30. Chapter 30 The Pride of Lions

**Edward**

Panic hit me when the black void descended. It wasn't so much darkness that hid everything; it was the absence of everything−all perception, all senses, and all movement. I tried concentrating and trying to flex muscles, but it was as if my body had disappeared and was floating bodiless in a black, featureless space. I tried reaching out with my mind, trying to listen for the others, but there was nothing.

The wolves had smelled the strange vampires first, but when I had seen in their minds the images of cloaked vampires approaching, I'd known immediately it had to be the Volturi. I'd seen their pictures in Carlisle's mind too many times to be mistaken. I'd whirled away from Jacob and sprang towards Bella's side, but before I reached her the guard had taken all perception, leaving me to gnash my teeth in horror and frustration. I was forced to wait out the blackness, unable to even hear the others' minds, not knowing what was happening inches from me. It was a total sensory deprivation experience unlike anything I had ever encountered.

I castigated myself relentlessly. I had acted so arrogantly and stupidly in my attempts to win Bella. I'd underestimated the ties the wolves had to her. I'd thought the Volturi would be slow to act; everything I'd heard about them had convinced me that they thought decades were necessary before contemplating action, and it was nothing for them to spend centuries debating particular points. Instead, they had shown up so quickly, it was if they had been _waiting_ for something to happen.

I knew Carlisle had been trying to escape their attention. Aro was a collector of vampires with exceptional talents, and here Carlisle was with three in his family. He didn't want to see any of us recruited into the Volturi; he had cohabitated with them at one point and finally left in disgust when the extent of their off-hand cruelty could no longer be disguised by the thin veneer of culture they pretended to. It bothered him immensely to see creatures gifted with immortality use it for nothing but self-serving hedonistic pleasures.

But as deeply concerned as I was about my family, it was nothing to the despair I felt at my inability to protect Bella. I stood cursing at myself, Jacob, the Volturi, the Monsignor and the entire Catholic Church with such vehemence that I was sure I was quivering with fury. If anything happened to Bella, I promised I'd create such havoc among the Volturi that their only recourse would be to send me into the fires. I could not live without her; I would not live without her, and if my actions had contributed in any way to her demise, then I shouldn't be allowed to live.

As time passed in a featureless void, it could only be measured by the narrative of my thoughts. Slowly, my initial fury passed, until I realized that this might be the very last time I would ever see Bella. If I could break free of the darkness, I had better assess my situation carefully before I brought catastrophe on all of us.

Finally, I was released and my relief at seeing Bella by my side was so great, I almost fell to my knees. I pulled her into my arms, trying to catch the tenor of the minds around me, assessing our danger. The field, where so much action and noise had been only moments before, rang strangely silent. Only Carlisle, Esme and I had been released from the spell the Volturi guard had thrown. It continued to linger over the wolves and my brothers and sisters. Oddly, Bella had been immune to it, and that thought intrigued Aro greatly.

From those locked under the blackness, I could hear nothing. They stood stock still, as frozen as statues. From the Volturi guard, there came varying degrees of caution, amusement, curiosity and surprise. The young boy named Alec, with the power which had held us, was intrigued by the Quileutes, while a portion of his mind kept watch on the figures still under his power. There was Jane, a sister to Alec, whose method of dealing pain had created a daunting reputation for unusual cruelty, even among our kind where cruelty was an everyday occurrence. Behind Aro, stood a ghostly silent figure called Renata, whose mind unswervingly concentrated on the protection of Aro, her Master and that only. There was Demetri, the tracker who had led them all here, and Felix, a hulking brute of a vampire and Captain of the Guard. Between two lesser guards, Hecuba and Sergio, the monsignor hung supported by their cold hands, his mind a swirling mix of terror, self-righteousness and indignation at his treatment.

If I hadn't been worried already, I would have been once I caught the tenor of Carlisle's thoughts. He was frightened for Bella, but even more, concern for all of his family was in his thoughts, and he saw Aro's presence here as a distinct threat to all of us. If this had just been a minor mission, Aro would not have chosen to come himself.

"Carlisle," Aro said warmly, belaying the cold assessment and calculations going on in his head. "It's been too long since we've been together. I would ask how you are, but it seems the answer is unfortunate. Having some trouble with the indigenous population, I take it?"

"It was well within our capabilities to handle it. A simple misunderstanding," Carlisle said

"H-m-m," Aro said, looking at the figures scattered in the field. "Well, perhaps I can help." He extended his hand. "Perhaps you would fill me in?" he said, staring into Carlisle's eyes.

There was a pause as Aro looked expectantly at Carlisle who looked at Aro's hand as if it would sting him. Finally, resignation crossed Carlisle's features, and he stepped forward to take Aro's hand.

How disorientating it was to watch the two of them as Aro flipped through Carlisle's memories. Their minds echoed one another but just slightly off, like watching a movie where the sound was not synched correctly with the action and everything was delayed by a second or two. Aro rifled through the history with the wolves quickly, and then lingered longest over my making and history and Alice and Jasper's entry to the family. I had to turn away; it was too hard watching Carlisle have to submit to this invasion. Bella sensed my distaste and looked up inquiringly at me. "Aro can read minds with a touch," I murmured. "He needs to touch but when he does he can see every thought that has crossed your mind." Bella's eyebrows drew together and her arms tightened around my waist. I could feel the tension in her back and the spasmodic shivers that ran down it every so often.

Aro released Carlisle's hand and gripped his forearm in a gesture of seeming sincerity. "But you mustn't be suspicious of my intentions, my friend. Hearing your name made me realize how long it had been since we'd been together, a situation I decided to rectify immediately." His eyes flicked to mine. He'd gotten all the information he needed from Carlisle on each one of us, and he knew of my extra abilities. He envied being able to read from a distance and wondered how powerful my gift was. He looked around the field and returned his gaze to Carlisle, smiling. "My goodness. You have been busy."

"We are a family," Carlisle said simply, suspecting what I could read in Aro's mind−the paranoia of a ruler, ever watchful for conspiracies and mutinies. Aro had specifically put a watch on Carlisle's activities, and this was only made easier by the family's habit of settling in at a location for a decade or so. He had suspected Carlisle was trying to put together his own Guard, for what purpose he couldn't fathom, and that is what had driven him from his castle in Italy to visit an 'old friend.'

"Well, I would be honored to meet them," Aro said, smiling.

Carlisle reached for Esme who came to his side. "Esme, I would like to present Aro Argentous. Aro, this is my wife, Esme Cullen."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cullen," Aro said graciously, bending over her hand and brushing the back of it with his lips. He clasped her hand for a moment longer. "You always had wonderful taste, Carlisle. I can see you have outdone yourself with this beauty."

"So very nice to meet you," Esme said. "I see the reference to silver must be your tongue."

Aro's eyebrows shot up with surprise, and then he laughed delightedly. "Of course! And quick-witted to boot. I am delighted to meet a child of Carlisle's making. I always told him he needed to find a mate, and now he has done so impeccably."

Carlisle turned to me. "My son, Edward."

He stepped up to me, smiling. Behind him, only a pace or two away, Renata stood silently, like a shadow. She moved whenever he did, never more than a few feet away. "Of course, the mind reader. How convenient to be able to do so from a distance." He held out his hand, as if in introduction, ignoring my hesitation as I tightened my grip around Bella.

He waited for me to extend my hand and take his, looking me steadily in the eyes. _Come now, turnabout is fair play._ _You're been reading me, surely you will allow me the chance to do the same? _Underneath the thought, there was a distinct tone of menace.

I reluctantly loosed my right arm around Bella and extended my hand. We clasped hands and I stiffened violently with the feeling of electric connection that raced through my body. I could feel my mind being rifled through, even as I could see the memories flashing through his mind. "Interesting," Aro said aloud. _You do not share the golden eyes of your family_. _But you flagellate yourself over your nature. Only taking the evil-doer. How naïve of you._

I answered him in my thoughts, knowing he would hear me as long as we had a physical connection_. Naïve? No. Trying to serve the greater good, perhaps._

_We are all saints, and we are all sinners. It's just a matter of what opportunities life has presented us with that make us who we are._

"I don't believe that," I said aloud. "We have choices."

Aro shrugged. "But you have made some interesting choices. Falling in love with your singer, that is folly of a magnitude I rarely see."

"You will not harm her," I hissed.

His eyes flashed angrily at me. _Young one, do not presume to tell me what I will and will not do_. But outwardly, he continued with his pretense. "And Bella, I have already met." He cocked his head. "So unusual. It will be interesting to see how your gift manifests itself when you are turned. But you are fighting that, aren't you?" He glanced at me. "He loves you. He isn't going to want to live without you, and that would surely be a waste of natural talent."

She looked at him and then back at me. "You wouldn't…" she whispered.

"He feels deeply about you," Aro said. He smiled and his eyes flicked once to where the Monsignor, whose thoughts were ranging from terror to the glory of martyrdom, was being held. "You mustn't believe everything you hear. What makes you so sure that _we_ are not instruments of God's Will? Perhaps God works with the lion as well as the lamb."

"Don't listen to these demons, Isabella!" the Monsignor yelled. "What could they possibly know of God's mind? They−" He was cut off abruptly, by the vampire who shook him like a rag doll.

Aro sighed, with the air of royalty forced to suffer fools. "Please don't attempt to argue theology with me," he said over his shoulder to the Monsignor. "I was a Cardinal under both Benedict VIII and Clement VII." He shook his head, cocking it to one side. "Fools, both of them." He glanced back at me and Bella. "But consider this, Bella. We are all children of God. Perhaps He works through us as well."

"How can there be a place for us in creation when we are so unnatural?" I hissed.

Aro let his finger run down Bella's cheek, before she pulled away to bury her head in my chest. It set my teeth on edge and I fought the urge to pick her up and start running, knowing it would be disastrous.

Aro smiled coldly at me. "How can there be any place beyond God's reach? Surely, even His dark angels are in His dominion."

"So you are are saying that God allows this evil?"

"Not only allows it, He is the architect."

"Aro," Carlisle called, "please release the rest of my family, and I will introduce you."

Aro nodded, and raising a hand, gestured to Alec. A moment later, Rose, Emmett, Jasper and Alice started to move.

"Children," Carlisle called to them. "Please come meet my friend, Aro."

Emmett and Rose, like-minded as always, had dropped into a defensive pose when first released from the spell of nothingness, but their curiosity and Carlisle's demeanor had given them pause. Exchanging glances, taking in the field of still frozen wolves and clasping each other's hands, they walked over to where Aro, his shadow, Renata, and Carlisle stood.

"Aro, these are my children, Rosalie Hale and Emmett McCarty."

Aro took Rosalie's hand, and as he had done with Esme, kissed the back of it. "Ah, un bel fiore," he breathed. "It is my honor."

"Nice to meet you," Rosalie said, perplexed and catching Carlisle's eyes as he nodded discreetly. Both she and Emmett were watching Carlisle for clues on how to handle this unexpected intrusion. Emmett and the hulking Captain, Felix, measured each other with their eyes.

Aro perfunctorily shook Emmett's hand, murmuring a greeting, but his eyes had already traveled to Alice and Jasper.

Jasper held out his hand to Aro who stepped up to grasp it. "Jasper Whitlock," he said letting his southern twang color his inflection.

"A pleasure to meet you," Aro said. "You have a strong gift, but I see you are reluctant to use it." He glanced at Carlisle, suspicion tainting his thoughts. "You must come visit us sometime. Several of the guards have gifts similar to yours. They may be able to help you manage it."

"Well, that's kind of you."

Aro waved his hand, indicating he thought it nothing. "But a history buff as well. You must come see our archives. It makes the Vatican's look like a provincial library."

"Well, thank you for the invitation," Jasper acknowledged.

Aro looked him up and down, thinking it was more than a simple invitation, but he let it go as he turned to Alice.

"And lovely Alice with such a gift!" he exclaimed as he kissed her hand. "True precognition is so rare."

"I don't always call it a gift," she said, glancing at Carlisle, who was looking on calmly while his mind raced with probable scenarios and how best to usher the Volturi back on their way.

"No," Aro said, still holding her hand. "I can see why. The future is not always pleasant." He glanced behind him at the still wolves. "These creatures are bothering you."

"They block it somehow," Alice said, withdrawing her hand. Jasper stepped up to her and placed an arm around her shoulders.

"Sometimes there are pockets of very old power trapped in the earth. Indigenous people with a long history in the area seem to be able to tap into it. It is power older than Christianity, older even than me." He stepped back towards Carlisle. "But these," he said indicating the Quileutes, "are an anomaly among anomalies." He circled Jacob slowly, who stood in wolf form, as still as a taxidermy statue. "Not true werewolves, the moon is not full tonight."

Bella shifted in my arms. Her concern for the wolves pulled her forward, and I reluctantly moved with her, keeping her hand in mine.

"Please, let them go," she asked, glancing between Aro and Alec.

Aro frowned._ Perhaps a display of strength is what this coven needs to recognize our power. The wolves first, then the girl,_ he decided. _She does smell good._

"No!" I cried, unable to stop myself from reacting to his thoughts and springing forward. Pain hit me−unimaginable pain. Pain that would take your breath away, pain that made it impossible to think. Pain that occupied you and took over every nerve, every cell, until there was nothing in the world but the pain that stretched endlessly like an ocean.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and the cessation of it was breathtaking. I pulled myself up off the ground where I had fallen and rose to my knees when a heavy hand laid on my shoulder. "Stay where you are," Felix ordered, rising like a mountain above me. Several paces away, Jane smiled triumphantly.

Carlisle silently urged me to caution, while behind him, the rest of the family stood tense and ready. Emmett looked at me._ Say the word, brother, and he'll be sorry he laid a hand on you._

We had no chance against these ancient ones. Yes, we were gifted, but not with the offensive gifts that these vampires possessed. We could have taken the wolves easily, but the Volturi were nearly invincible. I shook my head minutely and tried to think how to get Bella out of this alive. She certainly wasn't making it easy.

"Please, they have done nothing," she pleaded as Aro stepped away and gestured to Alec and Demetri.

"They were attacking vampires," Aro answered. "We'll start with this one." He gestured to Jacob.

"Aro," Carlisle said calmly, while inside his mind raced. "It was a misunderstanding. Perhaps you misinterpreted−"

Alec and Demitri approached Jacob, whose eyes began to twitch. From behind him, Bella ran and threw her arms around his neck, screaming, "No! You won't hurt him!"

Alec released Jacob from the strange black void and he came to awareness, realizing that strange vampires were attacking him. He felt the arms around his neck and instinctively twisted toward them, baring his teeth and biting. For a brief moment, there was a ball of fur and flesh rolling on the ground. Horrified, I saw Bella underneath Jacob's teeth and claws, as he unwittingly attacked the closest person next to him.

"No!" I cried panic-stricken, trying to rise to my feet only to be slammed back to my knees by Felix's hand.

Jacob suddenly realized the error he had made and his horror reflected my own as he froze over Bella's body. Esme, Emmett and Rosalie were instantly by Bella, dragging her away from Jacob's teeth and nails. Emmett punched Jacob in the side of the head, and the wolf went down in a heap. Alec and Demitri began to kick and punch at Jacob's struggling body.

"Wait!" Carlisle shouted. "Aro, please, my friend. Think this through."

He turned briefly toward Bella, who lay cradled in Esme's arms. She was stunned with disbelief and looked down at her injuries with a lack of comprehension. I could see teeth marks in the shoulder of her slicker, the forearms of her jacket were in shreds and, in the front of her shirt, four parallels tears from a paw. As I watched, a dark stain started seeping into the yellow of her shirt, and a single line of black trickled down the front of her slicker.

The scent of Bella's blood rushed at me, obliterating everything else. It surrounded me, enveloped me, and painted everything around me red. I began to shake with the overwhelming need to be where that fragrance was, to lose myself in it. There was her blood and nothing else in the world; it all fell away as trivial and unimportant. There was the only the rich, deep smell beckoning me to come and ease the fire in my throat, an inescapable and undeniable siren call.

I tried to rise to my feet, but again, heavy hands forced me back to my knees. Mindlessly, I tried to crawl toward the source of that smell, that compulsive, unavoidable smell, only to be pulled back. I lost all reason, fighting senselessly against the hands that held me, targeting only that incredible fragrance and the need to be one with it.


	31. Chapter 31 This Is My Blood

**A/N **My family complains I never talk to them anymore. I tell them, just a little more time until I can get this story done. They nod acceptingly, figuring this is just the latest in my crazy stream of projects. They don't know about the readers and reviewers who, even though I may not reply to them as I wish I could, make me feel like I have this huge circle of friends.

To my friends then...

**Bella**

"Sh-h-h," Rosalie said. "Just lie back."

"No!" I struggled to sit up. I saw my sleeves were torn into shreds and I watched, unbelieving, as a dark stain blossomed on my shirt at the waist.

She pushed at me, trying to get me to lie down. "You've been hurt."

"Shit." I was hurt. Jacob had hurt me, totally unintentionally I was sure. I'd been in the wrong place as he woke up, and he had come out fighting. I should have known. He'd gone into the trance fighting; it was the way he would awake from it.

It was only now after I realized I was hurt that I started to ache and sting. I heard Carlisle talking, arguing with Aro on behalf of the pack, and through the darkness, I saw Jacob, naked and curled on the ground, two of the vampires standing guard over him. I couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. "Jake!" I yelled. The two vampires standing over Jake watched me curiously, but there was no movement from him.

"Bella! Lie still. I'm trying to help you," Rosalie commanded, tearing fabric from her shirt. She pushed me back down to the ground and held me there. Somebody's raincoat was underneath me. I struggled against her, calling for Jake, but I was helpless against her solid arms. Emmett and Esme were standing over me as well. "Please help him," I said, meaning Jacob, looking to Emmett and Esme. "Don't let them kill him."

Rosalie scowled. "Carlisle's working on it, though I don't know why." She pushed my left sleeve up and looked at several puncture marks that were leaking blood. She grew very still watching it, then looked up to Emmett, who was hovering above us. "Get Carlisle. I can't do this." She frowned at me. "You. Stay where you are."

I laid my head back as my injuries started to sting in earnest. I could smell the blood, and it was making my head spin. I hated the sharp metallic tang of it. I craned my neck, looking around, but I couldn't see Edward through the legs of those around me. I tried again to sit up, but a sharp icy pang ran through my shoulder, and I gasped against the sudden pain.

Carlisle hung over me. "Bella, I need you out of this shirt. I need to see your injuries." I had no sooner nodded when with a few tremendous rips the shirt was off me and I was lying back in just my bra. The raincoat was slick and damp under me. "Talk to me, Bella," he said. "Tell me where it hurts." He was dabbing at me with the remains of my shirt, before handing it to Rosalie. "Press here," he said to her, and she leaned on my shoulder, staunching the wound there while Carlisle continued working.

"That hurts," I said. Rosalie grimaced above me, pressing firmly down on my shoulder without looking at it.

With a few quick twists, Carlisle had wrapped my forearms in strips of fabric. "We need to get you back to the house." His eyebrows furrowed as he sniffed twice sharply.

"Where's Edward?" I asked.

Carlisle glanced over his shoulder. "He's…okay." He ripped off a chunk of his own shirt and put it on the long scratches on my stomach. "Press as hard as you can stand it." He paused a moment, looking up, and I followed his gaze.

Above us, one of the strange vampires held out his cloak. Carlisle took it slowly. "Thank you, Demetri." The vampire nodded, looking at me. He smiled, and it was not a reassuring sight.

Carlisle tucked the cloak in around me. "Just rest easy. We'll get you back to the house as soon as we can."

"Don't let them hurt the Quileutes," I begged.

He patted my leg. "Working on it." He stood up and walked towards Aro.

I craned my head, looking for Edward. Finally, I caught sight of him, along the edge of the headlights' illumination. He was crouched on the ground with the big vampire above him, one hand on his shoulder. I almost cried out when I saw him. Shadows haunted his face, and his eyes were huge and black. He was glaring at me, but not seeing me. A tremor pulsed through his body, and he tore at the grass in apparent frustration. I looked at the scrap of fabric I held at my waist and saw the irregular stain of blood. _It's the smell of my blood._ _It's affecting him._ I looked up at Rosalie, who was working very hard at ignoring me, despite the steady pressure she was applying to my shoulder. The rest of the Cullens had moved some distance away. Carlisle stood in front of Aro, gesturing. Off to one side, the Monsignor was frowning at me, while his captors grinned. One of them caught my eye and smiled at me, licking her lips.

Aro was shaking his head. That didn't look good. I tried to sit up, but Rosalie's pressure on my shoulder held me down. "Rosalie, let me up. _Please."_

"Carlisle wants you lying down."

"I can't lie here and watch my friends destroyed. Please let me help them. You have to let me up."

There must have been some note in my pleading that touched her. She released the apparent breath she'd been holding and sat back. "Keep away from Edward. It's your blood that's doing this to him."

"Thank you," I whispered as I got to my feet, pulling the cloak around me. Edward continued to stare at me mutely, his eyes following me as I walked past him toward Jacob. He shivered once and curled farther into himself.

"Jake," I said, touching him gently on the shoulder where he lay curled on his side. His hand was bent at an odd angle to his arm, and there was an angry red spot over some of his ribs. They were cuts and scrapes all over him, and his blood mixed with the mud and dirt, streaking his body. "Oh my God, Jake, what have they done to you?"

He moaned without opening his eyes. The relief I felt at knowing he was alive was tempered by the fear I felt for him, for all the Quileutes. I stood up, fighting the lightheadedness that was threatening to overwhelm me, and trudged over to where Aro and Carlisle were.

"They are unique here in the North," Carlisle was saying to Aro. "It's been our presence in their range that has--"

"You have to let them go," I interrupted. Desperation was making me bold.

Carlisle looked at me, a warning in his eyes. Aro raised his eyebrows. "Why is that, Isabella Swan?"

"Because they haven't done anything. They're boys. They're just trying to protect..." _Me. Oh my God, this was about me_. "Please."

"They have broken their treaty with Carlisle," Aro said. "They have violated the edict of secrecy."

"It was in response to a perceived threat. They have as much to lose from this as us," Carlisle pointed out.

"I hardly think so," Aro said. "They are a small provincial band, we dominate the world."

"And for hundreds of years, they have kept their secret. What kind of attention will the disappearance of so many of them create?" Carlisle argued. Aro frowned, giving Carlisle room to press his point. "They are part of a much larger community here with many ties to the larger population."

"Please. I'm begging you," I said desperately, ready to drop on my knees. If anything happened to them, their lives would be on my conscience, a thought I couldn't bear.

Carlisle stepped back, bowed his head and spread his hands in some kind of signal. "I ask it as a favor to me."

Behind where we stood, the rest of the Cullens had gathered together. Jasper was looking at me intently, making me uneasy with the singular fierceness of his gaze. He watched me, until Alice, raising on tiptoe, whispered in his ear. Jasper listened, nodded and took a step forward, his gaze intent on Aro's back.

Aro glanced between Carlisle and me, measuring us. "In the name of friendship, then. I will agree to let them go−if they leave the field peacefully. I would ask in return, Carlisle, that you do not let our friendship lapse so long. You will come visit me soon, yes?"

"Of course."

"Be sure to bring your family. I think Jasper especially would be interested in our association." He glanced over his shoulder at the Cullens. Jasper met his eyes without expression. "And Alice, of course."

"It will be done," Carlisle agreed. "Please release just the leader first," he said, pointing to Sam, "and let me explain the situation."

Aro gestured to Alec, and the two of us turned to watch Carlisle cross the field. I felt Aro's eyes on me. "The cloak suits you. You should keep it." I turned to see his alien red eyes on me and shivered. He chuckled under his breath.

Carlisle stood by Sam, who came awake with a start. Carlisle started speaking low and urgently. Sam listened for a moment, then saw Jacob on the ground. I held my breath, praying that Sam would see that he was way outgunned and could see the reason in leaving peacefully. These vampires were immensely old and powerful, and the Quileutes would be no match against them.

The two vampires stepped back to let Sam and Carlisle examine Jacob. Sam's face was grim and determined as Carlisle continued to talk. I heard my name mentioned, and Sam's eyes flicked toward me. They were hard and unforgiving. I couldn't blame him. Unwittingly and to protect me, the Quileutes had come to this field and had found that not only did I not want their protection, but they had been ambushed by a unimaginably powerful enemy.

Finally they stood up and Carlisle asked Alec to release the rest of the wolves as Sam stepped back and phased into a huge black wolf. He shook himself, as a wet dog would, spraying rain. "Fascinating," Aro breathed beside me.

Gradually, the wolves came awake, some snarling and growling as they came aware, but Sam sprang in their midst and snapped at them, demanding submission in a show of dominance.

One of the wolves rose to its rear paws and Embry appeared where the wolf had been. He stepped forward towards Jacob, his eyes were hard but haunted, and his young face was aged by the emotions he held back. With immense dignity, he looked around at the field of vampires, conceding nothing, and then gently picked up Jacob, who groaned without waking. He clasped him to his chest and started back across the field with him. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched his strong naked body carry his wounded friend into the forest. The wolves followed them, several of them looking back over their shoulders. The tree line and the darkness swallowed them up and they were gone.

It started to pour in earnest now, and I could feel my hair dripping down my neck and clinging to my skin. The cloak was water resistant and most of the rain rolled off it. Carlisle came back towards us, rain dripping off the brim of his golfer's cap. "Thank you, Aro."

"It is my pleasure that we were able to defuse a problematic situation for you," Aro said. "We'll keep our ears in this area open for any more transgressions. Next time I shant be so lenient."

"I'm sure you'll have no reason," Carlisle promised.

"Well, then, that leaves just the problem of you," Aro said, turning to me.

My stomach felt as if it had been dropped into my feet. From across the field where Edward crouched with the giant's restraining hand on his shoulder, he shouted hoarsely, "No!"

Behind Aro's back, Rosalie started forward, looking furious, but was pulled back by Emmett's hand. He gave her a look full of warning, and she reluctantly let herself be reined in.

Aro approached Edward, stopping a few paces from him. Edward's face was twisted with pain and fury, and tremors continued to rock him. "Well, what would you have me do?" Aro asked.

"Let her go," Edward rasped, swallowing painfully.

Aro turned to assess me. "I think not. I am here to uphold the law, not bend it." Aro glanced to Carlisle. "She has very interesting potential."

"She doesn't want it," said Edward, his voice harsh and ragged.

Aro cocked his head, looking at me curiously. "The alternative is so dismal; perhaps she'll change her mind."

"What alternative?" I asked, walking closer.

Aro looked at me, his strange eyes glowing. "There are only two choices for the humans that know us. Become one of us, or death. If you die, he intends to follow."

That stopped me cold. I fell to my knees in front of Edward, who kept his hands on the grass. "Oh, Edward," I whispered, tears springing to my eyes. "No." The thought of the world without him was unbearable. In the short time I'd come to know him, he'd become as essential as air to me. This very real threat to him made me realize what I'd tried to push away−that our fates had become inextricably bound together.

He wrapped his arms around himself, locking his hands under his armpits, and started to rock back and forth on his knees. "Don't do it, Bella. Not for me." His voice was hoarse, painful to hear.

Aro sighed. "All this self-sacrificing is very touching, but it seems the perfect solution. He wants her; she wants him. It solves the singer problem, everyone is happy, si?"

I saw the Monsignor following our conversation. "But what of God, you unholy monsters?" he demanded. The vampire holding him scowled and shook him.

"Please," Aro said. "I have walked this earth for three thousand years and never once have I seen God. If He's watching, He does not answer."

Carlisle came to my side. "Maybe you ask the wrong questions."

Aro sighed. "The idealism of the young."

"The cynicism of the elders," Carlisle shot back.

Aro threw his head back and laughed. "I have indeed missed you, Carlisle. But, nevertheless, a choice must be made. Choose, Edward."

"Bella..." Edward rasped uncertainly. Rain or tears started filling my eyes, making it even harder to see. "What is it _you_ want?"

"Don't put your immortal soul in jeopardy!" the monsignor yelled, now on his knees. He made the sign of the cross with his free hand. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

"It looks like the choice is yours, Isabella," Aro said. "What will it be? An end with an uncertain heavenly reward? Or the life of a vampire immortal with your lover?"

I was on my knees in front of Edward, afraid to touch him for the pain the smell of my wounds gave him. He was hunched over himself, the black raincoat flaring out from his crouched body. His pale face stood out in sharp relief against his dripping, dark hair and black eyes. Felix stood over him, like a giant redwood.

Was the choice between Edward and God? Did having one preclude me from the other? The Monsignor seemed to think so. But I'd never felt more complete and closer to God than when I was with Edward.

I knew then, what my heart had been telling me from the first moment I had seen him in the pew at my church. That he was as close to the eternal spirit of pure love as I could get. That there was more than one path to God, and for me, for better or worse, it was to be with Edward. And even if the choice was between him and God, that I would choose Edward.

"It's you, it's you," I started crying. "It's always been you. I've just been too scared to say yes. Death doesn't scare me. Being without you does."

"Bella," he said, his voice thick and rough. "I didn't want this choice thrust upon you."

I started crying even harder, hoping my words were intelligible enough through my gasps. "I know, I know. I'm glad it was. I might have spent my life regretting my choice." I hugged myself, unconsciously echoing Edward's position. "I'm frightened. I'm so very scared, but if you will be…" I gasped, trying to get control of myself, knowing there was nothing more I wanted than his arms around me.

"I will be there," he promised. "Every second of eternity." His eyes held me, across the great divide of his thirst where we could not touch. "Always."

"God forgive me," I whispered. "I choose you." I started sobbing violently, with grief, with fear with the heady mix of unnamed emotions that were wracking me. I didn't know if God would turn His back on me or not.. I only knew that by some grace, my heart's desire was being granted to me and, whatever the consequences for my soul were, they would be nothing compared to eternity, wherever spent, without Edward.

I brushed at my face with my arm, feeling the ache in my arm and shoulder where my injuries throbbed. Edward's eyes were on me. "I love you, Isabella Swan." Edward whispered hoarsely.

"I love you, Edward Cullen," I whispered back. That was the first time we had declared our love for each other−parted by his thirst for my blood, in the middle of the woods, in the pouring rain after midnight with a dozen vampires as our witnesses.

Aro leaned over to Carlisle. "I knew it, of course. I knew she would pick him. It's obvious they are mated. She just needed a bit of incentive."

Carlisle held out his hand to me and I grasped it and stood up. "We'll take her back to the house and−"

"No," Aro said flatly. "It will be done now. Sergio, you may escort the Monsignor home. We will not need last rites after all. " He turned to me. "Unless, perhaps, you wish to be confessed before you…?"

I looked at the Monsignor's scowling face and shook my head.

"Very well, then," Aro said. "Monsignor, you are free to leave us."

The Monsignor pulled his arm from Sergio's grasp. "It's about time," he grumped.

"This way, padre," Sergio said, bowing and directing the Monsignor back across the field. He looked back at Aro, who nodded slightly.

"Be sure he is aptly rewarded," Aro said. Sergio smiled wickedly and turned back to the Monsignor who was stomping across the sodden field.

I started to tremble. Carlisle put his arm around me, looking at me but addressing Aro. "We need some time before she is turned. The wolves have tainted her. I can smell them in her."

I looked at him in horror. "What do you mean?" Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandages on my arms, I saw as I held them in front of me.

"The bites, they carry some of their saliva. I can smell the traces in your blood stream. If we can just give it a few days, I am sure it will work itself out."

Aro shook his head. "A few days so her conscience or his gallantry can kick in? I think not."

"I have no idea how their chemistry will mix with ours. Please," Carlisle pleaded. "Just some time to−"

"I am growing weary of this," Aro said abruptly. "Now."

Carlisle turned to me, and I could see him try to hide the concern in his eyes. A whimper of fear escaped me. He smiled and brushed my hair back from my shoulders. "Don't be scared," he murmured reassuringly.

"No," Aro said. "This has been Edward's lapse. He shall do it."

Carlisle whirled back around. "Aro!"

Esme stepped forward from where she had been listening on the side. "Aro," she said calmly. "Please be reasonable. She is his singer. Look at him; he can barely contain himself from just the smell."

On the grass, Edward was on his feet, his arms wrapped around himself and hunched over, watching us with huge eyes.

"It will be interesting," Aro said. "A true test of love. Which will win, blood or love?"

"I could kill her," Edward rasped, sounding like razorblades lined his throat.

"We will find that out, won't we? Or perhaps we could let Felix try."Above Edward, the giant smiled wickedly, causing a frigid shiver to run down my back. Aro sighed. "But Felix's control has been so shaky of late."

Edward straightened up, his face grim and murderous. "If I kill her, you'll be next."

Aro's face got hard. "Threats are inappropriate here, Edward. I am granting you your heart's desire."

Edward came to a stop in front of me. His eyes searched me, pleading for forgiveness. "Bella, I…" His voice was harsh and raspy, and he swallowed hard.

"I'm glad, Edward." It was right. His fate had lain in my hands and now mine rested in his. Whatever happened, it would be meant to be. "I want it to be you."

He drew in a long breath through his nose and closed his eyes. Roughly threading one arm through my cloak, he pulled me against him, his cold hand at my waist. With the other hand, he pushed the cloak from my shoulder and let it slip to the ground. The raindrops started pelting my skin and I was shivering, with cold or fear−I couldn't tell. Edward's hand caressed my shoulder, slowly pulled the strap of my bra down and then let his fingers glide over my slick, bare collarbone and neck.

His glittering black eyes didn't lift above my neck, and I started to tremble in fear in earnest. His hand traveled around my shoulder and across my chest, just brushing the tops of my breasts. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as a spasm rode down his back. His hand pulled me tighter against him as he started to lean forward against me, arching me backwards. I wrapped my arm around his head, trying to keep my balance.

There was an animalistic rumble from his throat as he continued to bend me backward. I held on to his neck and shoulders which were trembling as hard as I was.

"I love you, Edward," I whispered as he bent his head and nuzzled my neck with his cool cheek.

I cried out when I felt his teeth in my throat. I started to struggle to escape the pain, but his grip around me was immovable as granite. The world started to spin and I could feel the suction at my neck. It was pulling me, tugging at me, and ready to surrender, I fell off the edge of my consciousness. I went spiraling down into a black hole of nothingness, grateful for the warm enveloping dark.

* * *

A/N Your reviews make it all worthwhile. I am hoping you are satisfied with Bella's final cloice.


	32. Chapter 32 Gethsemane

I owe so many people, the ladies who have made me banners, the bloggers who have recced me, the ladies at the Gaz, GinnyW, Rochelle Allison, UggyF. SSherrill, thank you all.

**Edward**

"It's been four days, Carlisle. Why isn't she awake?"

"I don't know, son." Carlisle sat in the chair by my desk. On the black day bed in my room, Bella lay motionless under a blanket. There was no discernible motion of her chest, and only the very occasional thud of a heartbeat gave any indication that she might still be alive. "I think the wolf venom is inhibiting the change, but that's just a theory."

"What else could it be?" I demanded in frustration. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Edward, it was nothing you did or didn't do. There's nothing we can do now, except wait."

"This is the worst kind of torture." I ran my hand through my hair before yanking it painfully. Beyond the windows, the stream burbled, like it was any other day. Some perverse part of me wanted it to shut the hell up. "She should be awake by now."

"Well, that is mostly true, but−"

"It's been three days, it's always been three days. Three days and then they wake."

I'd counted on only having to endure the torment of watching her suffer for three days and that's what I had steeled myself for. The first forty-eight hours she had unconsciously moaned and whimpered in her sleep. I'd sat by her bed while every noise that had escaped her lips had hit me like a dagger through the heart. I'd destroyed chairs, lamps, books, anything that had been in my hands when she cried out, unable to stop myself from feeling like I was burning alongside her. But I would have gladly traded the uneven torture of her occasional cries for the cold, barren wasteland of her complete silence. The lack of any sign from her was creeping toward my heart like a poison, making me cold and desperate for any kind of change.

Esme poked her head in through the door. "The movers will be here in another two hours. Is there anything that you want us to take to Dartmouth?"

"No," I answered, staring at Bella's unmoving form. Somehow I had found the strength and the presence of mind to stop myself in the field from draining Bella, but it had been so close. I turned to look at Esme, remembering what she had told me. _The only way to stop wanting to kill her is to want her alive even more._ Through the haze of delirious and ecstatic blood lust that I had finally surrendered to on that field, I had cried in agony as I pushed her unconscious body away from my lips before her heart came to a final stop. Standing guard over Bella's prone body, I had growled and snarled at my entire family before Carlisle's calm words, repeated over and over, got through to me. _"Edward, you did it. Now let us help her."_

Aro and Carlisle had exchanged words of goodbye and the Volturi had disappeared as quickly and as soundlessly as they'd arrived. I'd carried Bella on my lap in Emmett's jeep on the way home, physically unable to let her out of my arms. Carlisle had offered to take her for me, concerned the smell of the blood was further torment, but the nature of that smell had changed for me, and while it had once called to me to take her life, now it was proof that she still lived, and I'd held on to it and her with all my strength and hope.

_N__o change?_ Esme asked, compassion shining out of her face.

"No," I said bitterly, turning back to the window. Esme pursed her lips and withdrew.

"I'll sit by her," Carlisle said. "Why don't you go out for a run? You're wearing holes in the carpet."

"I want to be here if she wakes up."

"Her condition hasn't changed in thirty-nine hours. Nothing will happen immediately."

I crossed my arms. "You may go if you like. I'm not leaving."

"As you wish."

* * *

That afternoon I heard Carlisle and Esme downstairs. "What do you think it is?" Esme asked.

"It's as if she's gotten stuck mid-change. It's got to be the wolf venom."

"The poor girl. It's so dreadfully painful. I can't imagine even an extra hour under it."

"M-m-m. I hope her mind's intact when she comes out of it."

I looked at Bella, still immobile, her pale face enhanced by the richness of her hair. "Bella," I begged her in a whisper, "don't leave me. I couldn't stand it." There was no answer, no movement.

* * *

"Five days, Carlisle!" I cried, crushing the back of the chair into splinters with my hand. "Five days, there must be something wrong."

"I know how tough this is for you, but there's nothing we can do. It must run its course."

I wrapped my arms around myself and rocked back on my heels. "This is slowly driving me out of mind."

"I know it is. Jasper has barely been able to step inside the door. You need to get out of the house for a bit. Emmett?"

My brother came around the corner. "Come on, Edward. Let's take a ride."

"No, I'm staying."

"Edward, why don't you go?" Carlisle urged. "I'll stay by her."

Emmett sighed. "Her cat is going to starve if someone doesn't feed it, and I've got painting to do at her apartment."

Darcy-her cat Darcy. That poor cat had survived through some pretty incredible fights. I turned to Carlisle. "You'll call me at once if there's any change."

"Of course. Now go."

Emmett tossed some paint cans into the back of the jeep and we took off down route 101.

I sat slumped in the passenger seat, watching the trees rush past. Emmett was humming along with the radio, some blues station. "That's a great line," he said, turning the radio up a notch.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and checked his. It was a song lyric. _I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for what I'm not._

"Yes..." I said, wondering where he was headed with this.

He glanced over at me. "You did the right thing, you know," he said.

"How can you say that?" I demanded. "An innocent girl lies in my room, potentially dying."

"Life is uncertain. You can't always control the consequences of your actions. But what you've done was done out of love. That has to count for something."

"Who's doing the "counting?" I asked. "God? You think He really cares about us?"

Emmett looked askance at me. "I don't know if He cares about anyone."

I rubbed my hand across my eyes. "And I thought_ I_ was cynical," I muttered.

"I don't know if I can say this right, but I don't think God is some old man on a throne, sitting back and judging us. Maybe we, meaning everybody that thinks and loves, are a piece of God and this life here, what we make of it, is our heaven and hell."

Now it was my turn to look askance at him. Emmett smiled enigmatically and started whistling along with the song. He turned up the volume once more as I turned back to the window.

We arrived at Bella's, and her scent lingered in the apartment like a ghost. Much of the destroyed furniture had been cleaned out, and even the top mattress of her bed was gone. I stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed, trying desperately to push the memories of her aside, but all I could see was the way she sang along with the Clash, how she had shivered when I had kissed her the first time, her wicked smile when she tickled me.

Emmett came in the room, paint cans clanging. "You okay?"

No, I wasn't okay. I wasn't even remotely okay. It was a mistake to come here because all I wanted was to go back and see her wake. I said nothing and began to look for Darcy. I found her in a corner under the bed, where she hissed bravely at me. Rather than traumatize the cat further by pulling it out and trying to make friends with it, I contented myself with making sure it had food and water. Emmett pointed out the litter box, which much to my dismay, needed cleaning. I couldn't see what the attraction was in having a feline as a pet, but it was something that Bella loved so I would do what I could to take care of it for her. That done, I offered to help Emmett with the repairs and painting he was finishing on her apartment, but he declined my offer, so I was left to wander around uselessly.

I headed out the door, ambling down the steps. From across the street, a female neighbor shot me a glance as she picked up the newspaper in the driveway. Her petty suspicions angered me, and I fought the urge to say something to her, but instead thrust my hands in my pockets and started walking. I was halfway up the steps of the church before I realized where my feet had led me. I pulled open the heavy wooden door and entered the vestibule, letting my fingers trail across the surface of the basin of holy water in the center.

Standing at the archway of the nave, I pictured Bella praying as she had been that day I'd accompanied her here. The peace and the serenity that had shone out of her face like a beacon had drawn me to her. What if I had taken that from her? Would she ever forgive me? I glanced warily at the Lazarus window, but the figures were motionless, trapped in their jewel-toned glass.

Behind me, I heard someone come up the stairs from the basement. Father Brian, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, was humming a Beatles song to himself and carrying a long narrow piece of wood in his hand.

"Hey, Edward," he greeted me as he crossed behind me. He had a carpenter's apron with tools hanging from it slung around his hips.

"Hello, Father. How are you?"

"Busy. Doing double duty these days." He stopped by the confessionals, where one of them had a splintered sill. That, I assumed regrettably, was my handiwork from my confrontation with the Monsignor days ago.

"Oh?"

He set the wood down and started to pry at the damaged sill with a chisel. "Monsignor Corvi left for Italy unexpectedly. Woke up Thursday morning and there was a note saying he'd been called to Rome. He'd already packed and left."

I had my suspicions about the author of the note and the Monsignor's arrival in Italy, but I kept silent.

"So," he said, ripping the wood from the sill, "I've been doing the Mass and trying to keep ahead of my other duties. I'm even doing repairs." He set the damaged wood aside. "Give me a hand here?"

"Sure," I said, stepping up.

"Just hold this in place," he said positioning the wood. "Yeah, right there. Actually, I like this kind of stuff." He smiled at me before turning to pick up hammer and nails. "Carpentry, you know. Long line of carpenters in the church."

There were questions I needed to ask him, answers that I wanted. I cast about for a way to start.

He glanced at me before starting on the nails. "So, how is Bella?"

"She's been ill," I said, at least somewhat truthfully. "But when she gets better, we're thinking of doing some traveling together."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps I could come visit her?" he asked solicitously.

"Thank you, but not right now. My family is taking care of her."

"Well, let her know she'll be in my prayers. I'm glad to see that she's got some people who care about her. Thanks," he said, indicating I should let go.

I stepped back. "Do you think that everybody, no matter what they've done, can become reconciled to God?" I asked, just blurting out what had been on my mind.

His face got very serious as he looked at me, his eyes searching my face. "Yes, yes I do," he said finally. "That's why we Catholics believe He sent His Son." He picked up the wood pieces on the floor and gathered his tools. "There has to be sincere contrition, confession which acknowledges those sins and satisfaction towards redeeming them."

He waited to see what my response was. I didn't know if he wanted me to confess to him there, or even if I wanted to do such a thing, but he watched me for a moment longer, still kneeling on the floor. "I think we as humans have a natural desire to get as close to God as we can. Our sins affect us and get in the way of our ability to do that."

_It must be nice to have that kind of certainty_. "You're sure of that, aren't you?" I asked. 'I suppose that's why you're a priest."

His eyebrows rose and he sighed. "We all have moments of doubt. But the act of having faith is a transformative act. To believe strongly in something, without any proof−because you have no proof, it changes a person." He shrugged. "Sure, there's been times I've questioned all of this," he said, gesturing at the church around us, "but I come back because I like what having faith does to me, here." He tapped his chest, and then rose off his knees.

He was a few inches shorter than myself, brawny where I was slender. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at me. "I've got to go get some paint, but why don't you take a minute and maybe get re-acquainted?" He gestured with his head toward the altar before heading back downstairs with his hands full, humming that Beatles song again. I recognized it−_Let It Be_. I watched his back as he disappeared, struck mute by his somewhat accurate perception that my relationship with God had become distant.

I looked back over my shoulder at the nave and down to the altar where, in typical Catholic fashion, a life-sized, bowed and bloody Christ was hanging on a large cross hung suspended by chains over the altar. I found it hard to believe that one crucified person could make that much difference in the world. I walked slowly down the aisle, thinking of all the cruelty and horror I had seen perpetrated on humans, most often by themselves. Surely, many people had died a worse death than Christ's, in pain and alone, abandoned and unloved.

I stared up at the icon's painted face, which I imagined looking down at the world. The frustration and anger I was feeling bubbled up inside me. "Ha!" I taunted. "What do you know of the world's troubles? Thirty-three years, bah! That's just getting started. Try a hundred and nine."

The artist that had done this crucifix had done a crude job with the painting, yet somehow had captured an air of martyrdom and eternal patience on the face of the icon. For some reason, it just made me angrier. "You hang up there pretending to be all merciful, while the rest of us here are just trying to pick ourselves up out of the muck? This is mercy? This is how You show Your love? Ha! What a travesty."

_What am I doing talking to a block of painted wood?_ I shook my head and started walking away. I'd only made it a few steps when I whirled around, another spasm of anger burning like a white hot poker in my chest. "I can take whatever You dish out, but why are You doing this to Bella?" I demanded."She has done nothing but love You." I glared at the icon.

"If You take her away from me," I promised, my hands clenched into fists, " I swear that I will wage a war on humanity the likes that You have not seen. It will make Lucifer look like an altar boy." I was shaking with rage. "I will lay a path of carnage and destruction among the innocent that even You cannot ignore."

I eyed the crucifix and took a step closer. "But You're not going to answer, are You?" I said disdainfully. "That is the only trait consistently Yours these days, isn't it? Silence. Complete and utter silence." I crossed my arms, regarding the whole altar. "When did that start to seem like a good idea?" I stood waiting, the only sound was far off in the distance-Father Brian was using a skill saw on something.

"Damn it!" I cried. "For ninety years, I have endured the torment of this thirst, horrified by my own actions. Yet I have tried again and again to make the existence given me worthwhile. You owe me this!" Enraged, I sprang from my stance on the floor leaping onto the crucifix, causing it to slowly swing back and forth over the altar on its supporting chains. Together, Christ and I swayed slowly, the wooden beams above and chains creaking, complaining under the extra load. I was clinging to the cross, face to face with the immobile painted face. "You owe me this!" I roared.

Gradually, inertia slowed us, and the creaking of the chains and swaying grew less and less. "No answer, of course," I whispered, suddenly deflated. I slid down the crucifix and slumped on the floor beneath it.

The anger had gone, leaving behind only the terrible pain of loneliness and abandonment. "Please, please, please," I pleaded like a crying child. "Please let Bella be alright, please let her wake. Whatever You want, my life for hers, whatever, anything, just please…" They say that vampires can't cry, but the sounds that escaped me were so full of pain and grief, it was the only word that applied. This was my Gethsemane, and I could taste the ashes of bitterness.

My cries of grief were slowly lessening when I heard a whisper of a sound−just the tiniest little plink next to my foot. Curious, I opened my eyes to see a bead of moisture on the carpet. I raised my hand to my face, wondering if I had suddenly developed the ability to cry but I was as dry and hard as usual. I dipped my finger delicately into the tiny bead of clear moisture and brought it to my nose. Venom. There was its distinctive acidic tang.

Confused by the source of the drop, I looked up. Dumbfounded, I saw the faint glimmer of moisture trail down the cheek from the eyes of the motionless Christ. On my knees below the bottom of the cross, I held a trace of glittering moisture on my finger that could only have come from the inexpressibly sad and grieved icon above me.

"Edward!" A voice rang through the nave. I looked behind me. Emmett stood at the archway to the nave, his cell phone in his hand. "Carlisle says to come quick. She's waking, Bella's waking!"

* * *

The line that Emmett quotes is from Saffire, The Uppity Blues Women "Nothing In Your House"

Thanks as always to the women who have my back, katmom, Poo235 and hellacullen.

And to my readers and reviewers, who make me laugh, tear up, move me and touch me, thank you so very much.


	33. Chapter 33 I Am Delivered

**A/N** Thank you readers, for letting me take you to unexpected places. B&E have suffered enough, we're cutting them a little slack in this chapter.

* * *

**Edward**

_Bella's waking_! I sped toward home, running straight out, reckless of anyone that might see me. I was moving so fast, though, human eyes couldn't have tracked me. Of course, I left the house for an hour and as fate would have it, that's when she would wake.

Alice hadn't been able to predict when Bella would rise, perhaps another side effect of the wolf bite. Carlisle had spoken with the Quileutes, looking for some clues on how our chemistry mixed with theirs, but they were as much in the dark as we were. At the moment, I didn't care at all. Bella was waking and I needed to be there.

I only slowed once when I had to remove my boots; my speed was burning through the leather. I ran through the park, faster than I'd ever pushed myself before. The events that had just passed in the church I pushed aside in my mind. I had no idea how to interpret them, and my concern now was immediate: how was Bella? Was she all right?

I was up the stairs and staring at the empty day bed before the front screen door even swung shut. I could smell Bella, but she wasn't there. Unexpectedly, from the corner, I heard a shy "Hello."

She was sitting in the overstuffed chair in the corner, her hands in her lap. She was beautiful, she was radiant, she was the epitome of everything I had ever hoped or dreamed for. It was Bella, with the flawless skin and crimson eyes of a newborn. They had dressed her in a blue shirt and pants, and it brought out the porcelain delicacy of her skin and contrasted against the rich, warm brown of her hair massed around her shoulders.

"Hello," I said cautiously as one might do around a nervous cat. I was almost afraid to make a sudden move−she might somehow disappear and the impossible dream I was in would end. "How are you feeling?"

Her face twitched minutely. "Good," she said as if just now assessing herself. "Odd, but good."

Relief broke open my heart and ran through my body like a dam bursting. I fell to my knees in front of her and wrapped my arms around her hips, laying my head on her lap. I closed my eyes, overcome with the knowledge she was here with me; she was awake and alive. I whispered, "I've missed you."

She bent over my head and kissed the side of my face, combing my hair with her fingers. "I'm here now."

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, delighted that her scent was as complex and as fragrant as the day I met her in church. Some of the deeper, tangier undernotes were gone, and the blood lust no longer leapt forward when I drank it in; instead it had acquired these delicate and cool top notes that pulled at me. I realized as I raised my head and looked in her eyes that she smelled like love to me, love that was consuming and consummate, total and irreversible.

There was a shadow in her eyes. "I thought you would be here when I woke."

"I was here for the last five days," I explained. "But then I had to leave for an hour to go feed Darcy and of course, that's when you wake."

"Darcy!" she exclaimed. "How is she? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," I said, smiling at her concern. "I'm definitely not a favorite of hers, though. For a little thing, she's a spitfire."

She was gazing at me, as still as only vampires can be. "I never…" she breathed.

"What?" I asked. I realized her mind was still as silent to me as she had always been. It was right, though. It had always been right. I would have lifetimes to get to know this woman, and I would need them all. She would always be able to surprise me, and for immortal creatures, that was a very good quality.

"I knew you were fantastically handsome before," she breathed as she trailed her fingers down my face. "But you are so…"

Her fingers laid a trail of sparks down my skin and ignited my joy, which welled up, thrilling me and creating the undeniable need to move. In one swift move, I plucked her by the waist from the chair she was sitting in and swung her in a full circle around me. "You're here, you're here!" I cried, laughing, unable to believe that fortune had finally smiled on me.

She laughed as I spun her around, her hair flying behind her like a flag of victory. I set her on her feet and we gazed breathlessly at each other.

"You're really feeling okay?" I asked.

She moved up against me. "More than okay, now that you're here."

I pulled her up tight to me, reveling in being able to hug her as I wanted to without fear of harming her. Gone was the fragile, burning heat of her humanness against my skin, but it had been replaced by something so sublimely _right_ that I didn't miss it at all. I ran my fingers down her cheek, and she closed her eyes and leaned into it.

Although her crimson eyes would label her a newborn, I was the one feeling reborn. There was a certainty I'd never felt, a rightness suffusing every cell of my body that told me that here, by this woman's side, was where I was meant to be and the last hundred odd years had merely been the road to this moment and from where it would lead us.

I took her face in my hands, while she looked up at me with smiling eyes. I kissed her right eye, her left eye, and then her lips. _Thank you, thank you_, I sent a prayer of gratitude into the ether. This was the miracle right here, that I could hold her in my arms.

I heard the thoughts of my family, gathered in different parts of the house. Alice thought Jasper looked so happy he was almost glowing, and Rosalie was laughing in Emmett's arms. Esme was ecstatic that Bella had come through, while Carlisle was relieved that the forced change on Bella seemed to have produced no adverse symptoms.

"Come with me," I said, leading her by the hand to the long French windows that overlooked the meadow. Selfishly, I wanted some privacy with her; my family would have a turn soon enough. She would probably need to hunt as well.

She stood by the edge of the window. "What?" She was confused as she leaned out to look at the drop to the ground. I remembered how it took a while to get used to the enhanced capabilities, so I swept her up in my arms and jumped, thoroughly enjoying the yelp she let out on the way down.

"I keep forgetting you can do that kind of stuff," she said, laughing once I had touched down on the ground.

She felt so good in my arms, I didn't want to put her down. "You can do that stuff now, too, you know. Actually, you're stronger now than any of us."

She frowned at me. "I am?"

"It's an effect from being newly made. It'll fade, but you'll always be immeasurably stronger and faster than humans." Reluctantly, I set her on her feet.

Her face got serious. "Because we're predators, right?"

"Predators, yes. But we have a choice of who or what we prey on. Not an easy choice, but a choice all the same."

"I can't even imagine..." she said, shaking her head.

'What? Taking a life?"

She nodded.

"Hold on to that. It will keep your humanity, even if you're no longer a human."

She stared at the ground, lost in thought. I came up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders. "You're still who you've always been. There's just a new set of instincts."

She turned and looked at me. I could see the fear in her eyes. "Instincts?"

"I know this is all strange and new, but I'll be here every moment. We'll get through this together." I pulled her into my arms. I loved the way her head came up to just my shoulders. It let me kiss the top of her head easily and she seemed petite and delicate in my arms. It brought out these protective feelings in me; I wanted to shield her from all the ugliness of our existence.

We stepped out into the field behind the house, heading toward the forest. The sun was sinking in the sky, creating shadows across the field.

Bella walked among the tall grasses that glistened golden in the afternoon sun, holding her palms parallel to the ground and letting the tops of the stalks brush them. "It's so beautiful," she murmured. "It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time."

"In a way, you are," I said, smiling as she looked back over her shoulder at me. The sun caught her cheek, making her glow. It almost took my breath away. "Your vision is much more acute now."

"You're right," she said in wonder. She glanced at the tree line in front of us. "There's a flock of starlings in those trees."

In the dark line of trees a hundred feet way, the shadows were hanging low and dark. It took even me a minute to find the small huddled shapes clustered among the branches. "If you listen for them," I said, "you'll be able to hear them."

She cocked her head. "I do! I hear them!" She paused a moment longer. "There are squirrels over there," she said, pointing to the south, "and a larger animal in the underbrush over there."

"A fox," I confirmed. "You'll learn their scents."

She closed her eyes and raised her face into the wind. "It's incredible," she murmured. "There is so much…more."

"I want to show you everything," I said, planning the places we would go. I had so much I wanted to show her. I had over eighty years of wandering that I would share with her; together we would revisit the secret grottoes of the Amazon, the great cities of Europe, and the deserts where the bones of civilization poked through the sand like skeletons of bygone eras.

"I can hear the traffic on Route 101," she said, but it didn't really register with me. I was too overcome with my plans and watching the way her features changed with the shadows as she moved her face from side to side.

Finally, the time had come where I could express the most important sentiment that could be shared just between the two of us. "I love you," I said, and my heart was so full, I felt that with the next moment I would turn into a column of light, that this heavy, sturdy body I was in was too corporeal to hold the emotions I was having.

She turned to me, and I gasped with wonder at her beauty. Just the shape of her gently arched eyebrows, the curve of her cheek, and the delicate bow of her lips had me entranced. That she was mine−my mate, my companion−was almost too much for me to grasp.

Behind her, I heard the rumble of a delivery truck in the driveway as it pulled into the front of the house.

"I love you, too," she whispered as she stepped into my arms. I kissed her tenderly, sweetly, holding back the passion I felt. There was time now, plenty of time, to consummate our love and for once, that was enough.

She stepped back from me, her brows furrowed, her hands at her throat. "What is that smell?" she wondered, her voice suddenly hoarse.

I froze in alarm. There was the scent of human; a human was making a delivery to our front door, and suddenly Bella was in pain and gripped by bloodlust. I knew that newborn instinct would take over and Bella would be helpless before it.

"What is that smell?" she demanded, her eyes glazing over. She whirled around and raised her face to the wind; this time her movements were quick and predatory. I grabbed her shoulders and tried to lead her farther into the forest.

"You must try to ignore it," I said soothingly. "It will be gone soon. Come with me now−"

"No!" she cried, shaking my arms from her shoulders. "That smell!" She whirled, insanely fast, and started for the house. Unless I stopped her now, that delivery man was as good as dead; self-control was not a strength of newborns.

I leaped at her back and managed to bring her down. Together we rolled on the ground, the grasses bending beneath us. "Bella," I commanded. "Listen to me! You must ignore it, you−"

"Ignore it?" she cried. "What is it? I have to find out what it is." She struggled beneath me. She had the strength of a newborn, and it was only experience that was allowing me to hold on to her.

"Emmett! Carlisle! Help!" I called, hoping they would hear me and help restrain Bella. She was beginning to flail wildly, and I tucked my head down, holding her waist, as we wrestled on the ground.

"Let me go, damn you! Let me go!" She got a foot planted between us, and with a tremendous thrust, she threw me into the air. Swiftly, she rolled on the ground and scrambled to her feet.

She was suddenly slammed back, in a tackle that would have made the NFL proud. Emmett's momentum carried her backwards, and they hit the ground together. Jasper and Carlisle were right behind Emmett, and they pounced on the wriggling bodies as well. I joined them, grabbing Bella's left arm in both of my own, while Emmett held down her right arm as Jasper and Carlisle each grabbed a leg.

We held Bella, while she screamed in frustration. She begged us to let her go; her hoarse pleas were heartrending. "Emmett, please, I just want to see. I have to, please let me go. I need to see, I need to find it, please, please."

I tried to reason with her, but I should have known she was beyond reach. Watching her, we all were reminded of our first time, dealing with the unyielding demands and unquenchable burning of the blood lust. It took time to learn how to develop the discipline to deal with it, a fact I knew all too well.

She started to scream incoherently with rage and frustration, struggling against us. The four of us held on to her, not letting her up. She cursed at me once, and it was almost more than I could bear. I was tempted to sit back and let her have what she was screaming for. Carlisle saw my wavering, and urged me to hold firm. _Don't let her do something she will regret later, Edward. You must be her strength for her when she can't summon it._

The delivery truck drove away, taking the human scent with it. Gradually, intelligence returned to Bella's eyes and she became still, her eyes closed and her mouth turned down. Jasper sat back. "She's okay now," he said, and the rest of us released her limbs. She curled to her side away from me, hiding her face under her hair.

"Bella," Carlisle said. "Don't blame yourself. We were all like that."

She said nothing, just rolled to her stomach and buried her head in her arms. "She wants to be alone," Jasper said, standing.

"Very well, then," Carlisle said, rising. "It'll take time, Bella, but you'll find a way to deal with human scent. We'll be here to help you."

"Don't worry about it, Bella, we've all been there," Emmett said to her still figure before they turned back to the house.

I stayed crouched by Bella's side. She stayed face down in the grasses, not raising her head. The starlings had fled to quieter territory, and the shadows reached across the field.

"Is it always like that?" Her voice was muffled by her arms.

"In some ways, yes," I answered. "It becomes easier with time to control your reactions to it. But the desire will always be there."

"What would have happened if you let me go?" she asked, not raising her head.

"You'd have been unable to stop yourself. The first time is always the worst. You don't know what you're fighting."

She rolled to her side and looked at me. The sorrow in her eyes was inexpressible. "I'd have killed–whoever that was?"

I nodded.

"My throat felt like it was literally on fire, and finding that smell was the only way to stop it." She swallowed uncomfortably. "It still burns."

"Hunting will help." I rose to my feet, but she stayed where she was.

"Does everybody smell like that?"

I nodded again. "There are individual differences, of course."

She sat up and put her arms around her knees. "Did I smell like that?"

I crouched next to her. "Worse, much, much worse," I said, smiling.

She grimaced. "Thanks." I was glad to see her sense of humor was intact. She picked at a long straw of grass. "Is it going to be like that with everybody?" she asked, not looking at me.

"Yes," I said. "You'll always feel the thirst. It's the constant of our existence. We don't talk about it, but it's there, nevertheless."

"How am I going to work? What about Charlie?"

"For now, you'll need some time away. When you're ready, we can come back and visit if you like."

"We?" she said, still keeping her eyes on the ground.

"We, Bella." It occurred to me she was still uncertain of her future with me. I shifted so I was in front of her. I took her hand in my own, trying to impress her with the strength of my conviction. Her eyes finally lifted to mine. "I don't make empty promises. Whatever is mine is yours. Wherever you go, I will follow. I'm bound to you in some way I don't even understand. I only know my hope for happiness is here, by your side."

"Oh, Edward," she breathed, putting her hand to my face. I twisted to kiss her palm. "I have nothing to give you. I'm still trying to figure out what you see in me."

"You gave me your life. Now I'm trying to give you mine."

This was the kiss I had been waiting for. She threw her arms around my neck and together we melted into the grass. Transcendent, such an ordinary word, yet it was the only one that came to mind. It was beyond the physical sensations; it was like holding joy in my arms, joy that I could touch and feel.

But trapped as I was in a corporal body, it also had reactions to her closeness. She broke our kiss, glanced down where we were pressed together and smiled wickedly. She was truly newborn, easily distracted, and while I loved that about her, I could also hear Esme and Rosalie watching from the windows of the house.

I glanced at the house. "Perhaps we should take a walk a bit further into the trees."

"All right," she said, rolling off of me but not rising.

"Let's take you hunting," I said. "It will ease the burning."

"What will we hunt?" she asked, rolling onto her stomach and grabbing another grass stalk.

"I suppose we should start with deer. It's kind of a tradition in the family, that deer is the first meal."

"Tradition it is, then." She stuck the grass stalk in her mouth, making her look like a hayseed. Her face contorted suddenly; she pulled the offending grass stalk out of her mouth and frowned at it.

"Didn't taste like what you were expecting?" I asked, amused.

"No," she answered, throwing it away.

"Come on," I said, rising and offering my hand. "We'll find something that tastes better."

She took my hand and rose. "Where are we headed?"

"We don't usually hunt too close to home, but let's head out toward the Hoh."

She looked at herself. "I'm not really a woodsy kind of person. The supermarket is more my speed. You're sure this is necessary?"

"The supermarket doesn't carry what we're looking for. Come on, you'll see."

"Okay," she said, skepticism written across her face.

"Let's run," I suggested. pulling her by the hand.

"All right," she said without enthusiasm, breaking into a trot.

"You can do better than that," I said, running backwards easily in front of her. "Try to catch me."

She snorted in derision, but she started to follow me as I ran through the woods. She got into a rhythm and soon was matching me stride for stride. The forest started to rush by as we dodged in and out among the trees, jumping brush and rocks.

"Faster!" I cried, starting to add some speed.

Her strides started getting longer, and I could see her put some concentration into it. Soon she was nearly flying, her hair whipping behind her, moving faster and faster. "It's incredible!" she yelled.

"More!" I called to her. We started to really fly then, the trees passing in a blur. She was laughing as she ran, as we got impossibly faster and faster.

I pulled up at a favorite spot of mine, a wide circular meadow. She passed me, laughing before coming back around. "That's incredible!" she exclaimed, her chest heaving with exertion, a human reaction out of habit. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and wonder. "It's like riding a motorcycle without the motorcycle."

"There's so much I want to show you," I said, wrapped up in watching her.

"And I want to see it," she said, pulling closer to me. I surveyed the area, listening with ears and mind; there was no sign of anyone else about.

Truly, we were two halves of a kind. She looked up at me through her eyelashes. "We're alone now, yes?"

"Yes," I said, unable to stop a grin from spreading across my face.

"Good," she said, and I let her push me to the ground. She threw a leg over me and straddled my hips. "Because I have some plans for the immediate future."

She started on the buttons to my shirt. "I think I'm going to like these plans," I said.

"Like them?" she scoffed. "I'm offering a money back guarantee you'll love them."

I threw back my head and let my laughter float up into the sky like balloons released from a child's hand. Out there in the meadow, as the sun dropped into the trees and the restless wind whispered a benediction, the answer to my prayer was given to me.

* * *

A/N We're very close to the end now. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

Don't worry-we'll take care of Darcy!


	34. Chapter 34 Amen

**A/N **

**So many thanks are due to to my betas, the people who've recced me, and pimped for me and encouraged and motivated me, most of all to the readers who let me take them on a journey into my alternate universe. Thank you all.**

Edward

I knocked on the open door. "May I come in?"

Carlisle was in his study, packing a carton of books. "Please do."

I entered the room and wandered by the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Carlisle's study was a favorite place of mine in this house; it was calm and serene like Carlisle himself. Now there were boxes scattered about, belying the usual order of the room. "We'll be leaving soon," I told him.

Already, the house was mostly empty. Emmett and Rosalie had left a week earlier and would be meeting up with Esme and Carlisle in Dartmouth after honeymooning again in the Poconos. Alice and Jasper had left yesterday, stopping only to pick up Bella's cat, Darcy, and deliver her for safekeeping to Arlene, Bella's friend from the diner. Bella and I would be heading to the solitude of my house in Horseshoe Bay for a while before joining the others. Her control was improving fast, but she still needed some time to learn the discipline. We'd head north to Alaska once the cold weather set in, and there were less recreational campers to stumble over.

"When do you expect we'll see you in Dartmouth?" Carlisle asked.

"I'd look for us in the spring, but we'll keep in touch if our plans change."

"I'm looking forward to having Bella as a part of our family."

"Thank you, Carlisle," I said. I paused for a moment, running my hand over the book spines on the shelf. "I think I owe you an apology."

He stopped with a book in his hand. "For what?"

"My actions contributed to the treaty failure. It certainly wasn't my intention-"

He waved away my apology."It's best that we move out of the area. We were creating problems for the Quileutes before you came." He placed another handful of books into the box and closed it up. "They very generously gave us as much time as we needed, but these are their homelands."

"You saved their lives," I said, thinking of the confrontation with the Volturi.

"Yes, but it was from danger we'd brought down around them." He grabbed another empty box and placed it on the table.

"What's that there?" I asked, noticing a package loosely wrapped in brown paper I had not seen before. It carried international stamps.

Carlisle frowned. "It's from Aro."

I stepped over to the table that held it and pulled open the brown wrapping paper. It held a grey cloak, folded over, with a letter on top.

_Dear Carlisle:_

_It was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope when you come to visit soon that we have more time together. I look forward to getting to know all of the Cullens better._

_In the crux of the moment, Isabella forgot to take her gift of a cloak from the field. Please return this to her and send her my best regards._

_Affectionately,_

_Aro_

I looked up at Carlisle. "He wants more than a visit, you know."

Carlisle sighed. "Oh, believe me, I know." He put another handful of books in the box. "Alice is of particular interest to him. He's very protective of his power. To foresee possible threats to it, well, that would be valuable to him."

"He found Bella fascinating as well."

"With Bella, I can see him waiting to see whether she merits his attentions. He knows how valuable Alice would be, and by extension Jasper."

I shook my head. "I can't ever see Alice joining the Volturi, voluntarily at least."

"No, I agree with you there. Jasper, however, is a bit more complicated." I frowned at the floor, trying to imagine Jasper as a Volturi guard. It wasn't that far a stretch to see him with red eyes and a cloak. "He's comfortable with militia-style organizations," Carlisle said. "He struggles with the restrictions of our lifestyle. He holds back on his gift, not wishing to unduly influence others, but there may come a time when he'll want to see exactly what he can accomplish." He finished packing the box and turned to the last empty one sitting on the floor. "Certainly, he can be charismatic when he wants to be. And for what it's worth, wherever Jasper goes, Alice will follow."

"What will you do?" I asked.

"Jasper will have his own choice to make. And Alice as well."

"Well, they'd be fools to walk away."

Carlisle stopped and looked at me. His mind flooded with the memories of those years when it had just been him and me. I had brought something into his life that he had despaired of ever finding, and he felt a debt towards me that I had never earned.

"No, Carlisle, the debt is mine," I whispered. He took a step toward me. He put his hand on my face in an affectionate gesture. "Mea filius," he murmured.

"Mea pater," I whispered back. We stared into each other's eyes, and I was overcome by the strength of my connection to this man. I'd seen so many men, depraved and corrupted by their lives and their desires. If it hadn't been for Carlisle, I'd have lost faith in humanity many years ago. He reminded me of what men could be−what they should be at their finest, and I knew as I looked at him that if I could someday show half the generosity of spirit, the compassion and the simple kindness that he did, then indeed could I be called his son.

He smiled and went back to his packing. From a desk drawer, he pulled out an elaborately carved wooden box. It wasn't the first time I had seen it; inside the archival box was an illuminated manuscript. "That's your father's Bible, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, running a hand lovingly over the box's surface. "It's over four hundred years old now."

I walked to the window and clasped my hands behind my back. "I had some rather…unusual experiences in Bella's church while this whole thing was going on."

"Oh?" he asked as he packed the wooden box.

"Do you believe in miracles?" I asked, not turning from the window.

He sighed. "When I was young and human, everyone did. God was on everyone's lips and His hand was seen everywhere. But science developed and it's given us other explanations. The miracles seem further apart and God seems to have gotten more and more removed from man."

"I thought He had abandoned us, but now…"

"I think abandon is the wrong word. The job of a parent is not to shield the child from the world, but to teach the child how to live within it. At some point, if the child is going to learn to walk, the parent has to let go of their hand. Perhaps God is letting go. Perhaps the responsibility for each other lies in _our_ hands, not God's."

I turned to him. "And for us, as immortals, specifically?"

"I know for many years you felt we were, by our nature, automatically damned. That we'd somehow lost our souls as we changed."

"We are so unnatural. Name another thing that is outside of time as we are."

"But we're not outside of time. It acts as surely on us as anything." He picked up a small geode that he used as a paperweight on his desk. The outside was grey and rough, but the inside glittered with purple and white quartz crystals. "A hundred thousand years ago, this was just a hole in the ground. Time and nature worked their magic until it became the beauty we see now, and for the span of my life so far, it remains unchanged. But in another hundred thousand years, who knows what form it may have? Perhaps our lifespan has lengthened, but never doubt we are changed. I've seen a tremendous change in you in just a few weeks."

I shrugged. "It's Bella."

Carlisle shook his head, smiling. "It's love. You don't know what good it does my heart to see it." He closed the box and sighed. "Aro believes that we are a part of God's plan as the personification of evil, that our role is to be that evil. But I believe we each must find our own way to God," he said, smiling, "just some of us have more obstacles than others. For some, that path leads through a church, or a mosque, or a synagogue. For others it, takes a more torturous route and for some, it is a path they walk alone."

"And the miracles?" I asked.

"That's a question you must answer for yourself."

(*) (*) (*)

The meadow was bathed in golden light. It was what photographers call 'the magic hour.' Not really an hour per se, just a few mystical minutes when the air seemed radiant in and of itself, as the sun was disappearing beneath the horizon and night pulled a dark blanket over the sky.

I looked over my handiwork of the last several hours. There was now a boulder in the north side of this meadow where none had been at the start of the day. I'd brought it from cliffs near the Elh-Wall. It was large, taller than I was, and almost block-ish in shape. Carved into the visible sides, it held one thousand seven hundred forty-three names in flowing script.

_Adrian Knoll_

_Michael Melrose_

_Travis Johansen_

_Vernichel Sangalang_

_Michael Valentine Smith_

_Frances Taylor_

_Richard Williams _

_Benjamin Jolly_

_Christian Mcyntyire_

_Aaron Ebert_

_Christopher Siedow_

_Hector Selenas_

_Stuart Katz_

_Lawrence Kelly_

_Ivan Pryzgocki_

_Gloria Ritter_

_Raymond Burns_

_Kevin Tokas_

_Simon Ryan_

_Anthony Lorinelli_

…and all the others, the names I had recited every dusk for years and years. The names flowed around the edges of the rocks like stripes. I lowered my head and closed my eyes._ Into God's hands, I commend thee._

I heard the merest rustle of the grass as I stared down at my pale, hard hands. They were undamaged by the carving; I'd used my index finger to scribe the names into the rock.

Bella came up from behind me and slipped an arm around my waist. "It looks good."

I put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "It'll feel strange not to say their names at sunset."

"It was time," she said. "Sometimes the best memorial is changing how you live your life." She stepped forward and underneath the last name, in her own flowing script, carved _Baby Swan_. Then, putting her hands behind her neck, she swung her hair over her shoulder. The crucifix of her necklace flashed once in the last rays of light as she removed the chain and gently laid it on top of the boulder.

"Bella," I said worriedly. "I don't want you to leave behind your faith. I've never wanted to take that from you."

She shook her head, smiling. "Oh, you're not." Her finger slowly traced the letters she had just carved into the rock. "I'm just sure, in a way, I never was before, that I don't have to be in a church to find God." She stepped back to me.

"Is this hard for you?" I asked. "Leaving your human life behind?"

"There are things, people I'll miss. Charlie, most of all, I suppose. The hardest thing is getting used to not sleeping."

"If I slept, I would have dreamed of you."

She rose on her tiptoes to kiss me. "_My_ dreams have come true."

Too soon, she broke away from me, sighing. "I suppose we should get going. The Quileutes are headed this way."

I sniffed at the air and smelled nothing but the deep, wet forests surrounding us. At the very edges of my perception, I heard the tickling of something that could be the pack mind, but it was too far away to be certain.

"How do you know that?" I wondered.

She cocked her head as if listening, then blinked her crimson eyes a few times and shrugged. "I don't know how. I just do."

"Do you hear them?" I asked.

"No. No, it's not like that," she said. "It's just a feeling, like knowing where your hand is."

Was this an effect of the wolf bite? It'd been the only sign of anything unusual from her. If that's where it stopped, I'd be okay with that.

I stepped over to where the bike was parked and swung a leg over it. It started right up, and I was reassured by its familiar growl.

Bella stood waiting to mount behind me. She was dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, as was I. "I must say," I said over the roar of the bike, "you do look the part."

"Better than yellow polyester?" she asked, holding out her arms to be admired.

I turned my head to the side, assessing her. "Hard to say. I've become kind of partial to it."

She snorted. "Right." She climbed on the back of the bike and put her hands at my waist.

With the inexpressibly rightness of the feeling of her pressed against my back, I guided the bike slowly through the forest, finally coming to the black top. We climbed onto the pavement, and I gunned the bike so that we sped along the highway, heading away from the setting sun. Bella tucked her head against my back and wrapped her arms around my waist. I took one hand off the handlebars to press her hands against me, while my silent heart nearly burst with joy, with contentment and gratitude.

The sky above me was a gradient of colors, and I imagined I could hear a low bass note that rang through the heavens and the earth, uniting them in a vibrant song that resonated down to every living thing from the greatest to the least.

For so long, I had thought of dusk as the end of the day, a time for mourning that the daylight was leaving. But I knew now it was more than an ending; it was the start of the dark, beautiful night.

**The End**

* * *

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